


Forbidden Fruit

by Kitmistry, PieDarling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Background Benny/Andrea, Blood Drinking, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester is naked a lot, F/M, Familiars, Fantasy, Fluff, John Winchester is actually a decent father, M/M, Nudity, Politics, Public Nudity, Sharing a Bed, Shifters, Strangers to Lovers, Vampire Dean Winchester, Vampires, Werewolves, Witch Castiel (Supernatural), Witches, background Inias/Kevin, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 92,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitmistry/pseuds/Kitmistry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieDarling/pseuds/PieDarling
Summary: There’s one thing ingrained into every vampire’s brain since they were born: Never trust a witch.But with rogue vampires threatening to expose all of them to the humans, and Men of Letters rallying against them, Alpha vampire John Winchester has to do the unthinkable: ask the witches for help. Dean follows his father on the trip to meet with the High Priest despite the bloody history between their people. What he doesn’t expect is the undeniable attraction between him and the High Priest’s brother.Castiel is surprised when the Alpha’s son appears at his window in the middle of the night, but Dean is funny and charming, and quickly gets on his good side. When Dean is arrested for an attempt on Michael’s life barely an hour after he’s left Castiel’s room, Castiel has to decide who he trusts more: his brother or his gut?After generations of bloodshed and war, will a common enemy be enough to unite their families?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 69
Kudos: 152
Collections: Perfect Pair Bang 2020 (Official)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Perfect Pair Bang, a bang created so authors and artists can meet and work on a story together from the very beginning. Pie and I came up with the premise of this fic during one of our 'blind dates' and then worked on this together every step of the way. It was a very refreshing change from the usual bangs, and also a really cool idea.
> 
> I'm really glad I got the opportunity to participate, and I couldn't have asked for a better partner than Pie, who listened to me rant endlessly, held my hand throughout the whole thing, and who literally spoiled me with all the art she created to go with the fic. Thank you for everything <3 I'm looking forward to working together again. (And I'm sorry for all those times I woke you up.)
> 
> [Don't forget to check out the art masterpost!](https://zelirocks.tumblr.com/post/617393213915971584/hello-more-bang-art-lol-this-bang-is-my-baby) I'm sure you're going to love everything as much as I did (especially the comic, and not only because that was one of my favourite scenes to write).
> 
> Thank you to my beta [rocksaltandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocksaltandhoney/pseuds/rocksaltandhoney) for catching all of my mistakes, making this 100% better and working extra hard to have this story ready for posting. I appreaciate all your help more than you know.
> 
> And of course thank you to our wonderful mods for running this challenge. I'm already excited for the next round.
> 
> -Kit
> 
> NOTE FROM PIE:  
> Hi!!! 
> 
> Talking is hard, right? Well, not when I talk to Kitty! Hahahaha, I think we clicked right away, and at least to me I was very sure I wanted to work with her from the first day we talked on the PPB forums. This story is the product of that!! All of the writing is Kitty's but I was still very involved in the process, helping outline the story and talking to her about any scene she had trouble with. It's truly a collaborative effort and I am very proud of it. I feel like we were really able to work on this the way I envisioned for this Bang to go.
> 
> As for the art, just omg, I did so many crazy things I hadn't done before. Trying to make a comic is harder than I thought and I only made one page!! That's crazy. Then I was forced to switch to digital art because of personal issue and I was so worried it would be a disaster, but thankfully I managed to get the handle of it!!
> 
> Anyways, this thing is long. I just want to thank the other mods for this bang: [Jaeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeh), [Deancebra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deancebra/pseuds/Deancebra), [GuardianKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiSage), [Hectatess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess), and our consultant [Unforth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) for helping me make this bang possible. I'm very happy we were able to pull this off. <3
> 
> Now please enjoy the story!  
> Love,  
> Pie

Castiel stepped out of his room and almost tripped on a calico cat. The cat curled in on herself, teeth bared as she hissed up at him, but he didn’t have the time to apologize, for her witch came running to pick her up and excused herself with a hasty nod of acknowledgment.

The castle was buzzing with activity that early April morning. Servants and guards alike hurried along the long corridors, familiars flying or running around just a few steps behind their witches, too busy with preparations for the feast to pay Castiel any mind as he passed the main stairs and continued towards his brother’s office. The heavy oak door was already half open, a murmured conversation carrying out of the room. Castiel knocked on the door and patiently waited for his brother to call him inside.

“Castiel, don’t you have an appointment with the tailor?” Michael asked, looking up from the papers in his hand. He was sitting behind his desk, hair mussed and reading glasses doing little to hide the dark circles under his eyes. Next to him, his secretary, Raphael, looked just as tired. They’d probably spent another night going over everything again to make sure the next few days would go according to plan.

Castiel felt the familiar pang of guilt rushing through him. As the High Priest’s brother he should be helping out more, but Michael had insisted from the start that Castiel focused on his studies first before deciding what he wanted to do with his life. A quick glance around him revealed that Dorothy was nowhere in the room. Only Raphael’s Zach dozed on the back of a chair, head tucked under his wings. They really must be overrun with work for Michael’s familiar to be away from him on such an important day. 

“I just finished,” Castiel said in answer to his brother’s question. “The suit should be ready for tonight. I just wanted to see if there’s anything I can help with.”

“We do need someone to meet our guests at the city gate,” Raphael said, raising an eyebrow in Michael’s direction. “The High Priest’s brother is a high enough position to appease them.”

Michael shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t trust them.”

Castiel tried to ignore his heart sinking to his feet. “Shouldn’t it be them who don’t trust us?” he pointed out, voice lowered.

" _We_ didn't wage war on them for three generations," Michael reminded him, voice cold. "But you shouldn't be thinking about any of that. Don't you have an appointment to meet familiars today?"

"All the Familiar Meetings were postponed for a couple of days," Raphael spoke up before Castiel could. "We sent the letters out yesterday."

"Oh that's right, I forgot." Michael squinted down at the endless piles of letters he had to answer, lists to check, menus to approve—and still he wouldn't let Castiel do anything. "I guess you're free for the day then."

"There must be something I can do," Castiel insisted, glad his brother hadn't pushed on the familiar topic. 

Meetings were held annually for young witches to meet with potential familiars and see if they were compatible to form a bonded pair. Castiel had attended his first meeting last year, but no familiar caught his eye, despite his family name and rank in the Coven making him a rather desirable witch. Usually, it wasn't strange for people to have to wait a couple of years before they met their perfect match—Inias had only met Kevin in his third year attending—but Michael had other expectations from his brother.

When the first year had passed and Castiel returned home unbonded, not much was said, but with time passing and the general unrest among their people, it was understandable that Michael was worried. He wanted his little brother to be as strong as possible for the dark days he foresaw, and had explained that plenty of times to Castiel already, but pushing him into finding a familiar when no one fit… it was becoming rather tiresome.

On some level Castiel understood him. Michael had been brought up in times of war, he had seen their parents die and had been left behind to carry the burden of becoming a High Priest when he wasn't even old enough to claim a familiar of his own. Castiel didn't see the urgency for him to find someone to bond with, having been a young child when the vampires and the witches had agreed to end the fighting, and having spent the next two decades living a carefree life. Their guards were strong, and Michael and his familiar even stronger, and anyway, if this week passed without any setbacks, there'd be no threat from the vampires for good. They'd be a united front against the humans from now on.

It was a treaty Michael had worked hard for in the last three years. Castiel just wanted to help, but his brother’s protective instincts were strong, and once again, Castiel was sent away. 

“There's no need for you to be involved,” Michael said, getting up to escort him out. “Just let me worry about tonight, and you can worry about finding a familiar, okay?”

The door was closed before Castiel could remind him that finding a familiar was not happening that day. Dejected, he wandered away, staying out of the way of a man using a levitation charm to carry extra chairs to the dining hall on the ground floor. The servant’s familiar walked along with his hands behind his back, chatting away, and sparing a warm glance in Castiel's direction. All the servants knew him, and they also knew not to let him do anything unless direct orders from Michael were delivered to them. He wouldn't even be allowed to offer to help that man with the levitation charm, Castiel was sure. So back to his room it was. At least he could put all those free hours to good use and catch up on his botany studies.

Dean drew back the heavy curtain of the carriage and peeked outside. They were just passing the last of the narrow houses cramped along the canals that made up the city. From there on out it was a short drive up the hill through sunflower fields and blooming trees until the castle outer walls.

“Dean, you’re letting sunlight in,” his father grunted, sitting across from him. He had his head turned towards Bobby as they discussed the upcoming meeting in hushed voices. 

Dean couldn’t see what the harm was. The sun was already setting, casting a warm orange glow over the scenery outside the window, and soon it would completely disappear behind the horizon. They’d be able to move outside freely then, but even now, with the last rays of the sun on them, their clothes would protect them. A mild itch where the light had found a strip of exposed skin between his sleeve and his glove was worth it to see the foreign land they were travelling through. John was agitated, though, and Dean didn't want to give him another reason to snap at him. He drew away, letting the curtain fall back in its place and plunging the carriage into darkness. 

It wasn't so bad. Being a vampire meant his eyesight worked better with little light, and having his brother's arm pressed next to his own as they sat side by side calmed his nerves. 

Sam leaned his head closer to Dean, voice barely a whisper. "Do you think he can handle this?"

"I think Bobby will keep him in check," Dean said, counting on the rattle of the wheels and the horses' galloping hooves to keep his answer from reaching John's ears. 

It'd been a surprise for everyone when John had started talks of a treaty with the witches, especially among the older vampires that were too close to the crimes of the past to be able to forgive and forget. Even John had second-guessed himself hundreds of times before this whole journey was arranged.

"Never trust a witch," he'd say to his sons when they were younger. "And never forget what they did to our people and your mother."

The bloody history between vampires and witches was well-known and frequently brought up. Dean knew all about it, from his grandfather recounting his own grandad's life as a slave, to Bobby explaining the almost one-hundred-year war that had cost both sides innumerable losses. Bobby's first wife and Dean's own mother had been victims of that war, but it was hard to hold a grudge when twenty years had passed since then. Or at least it was hard for Sam and Dean. John, it seemed, lived and breathed with his wife's death like a knife stuck between the ribs. His hatred for the witches burnt hot and furious to this day, and Dean was sure that if his hand hadn't been forced, none of them would have ever stepped foot in this city.

“Wanna bet this feast will end with Dad biting the High Priest’s head off?” Sam said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Dean felt his own lips curling up in a grin in response. “Wanna bet he won’t make it past the gate?”

Their muffled chuckles drew a questioning glare from their father, and they both quickly squirmed in their seats, trying to sober up. 

This really wasn’t a laughing matter. Dean understood that much. He knew exactly how important these next few days would be. Important _and_ dangerous, as both John and Bobby kept reminding them. They were essentially walking right into the lion's den. He also knew he should have felt some kind of foreboding as the carriage jolted, the road changing from dirt to pebbles, signaling they were now almost at the gate. Instead, all he could feel was excitement tingling throughout his body. He couldn't help it. Despite knowing all the horrors the witches committed against his kind, visiting the castle meant only one thing to him: magic.

Charms and spells and powers he'd never seen before, only heard of in stories passed down from generation to generation, all ready to be laid out before his eyes. True, the stories mostly talked about collars that had kept them as prisoners and spells that screwed with their minds, but there was so much beauty hidden in there, too: clothes that changed color on a whim, chores that were completed with the wave of a hand, instruments that played by themselves, even rumors of vampires that didn't need blood to feed. A whole new world waiting for him to explore it.

Noticing the light dimming further through the curtains, Dean figured dusk had finally spread its muted colors across the sky and it was safe for him to try and catch another glimpse of the outside.

John's eyes followed him as he parted the curtains yet again, but this time he didn't say anything. Emboldened by the silent permission, Sam squeezed alongside his brother by the window, faces pressed against the glass. The view almost took Dean's breath away. A pale wall stood before them, a giant metal door waiting at the end of the road, and just behind those, tall towers, spires with flags dancing in the wind, navy blue roof tiles that glimmered under the last sunlight of the day. 

They were finally there.

It took Dean a minute to realize that there were people waiting for them, as he was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the castle to let his eyes take in what was ahead of them. But when he finally focused on the figures standing in front of the heavy gate, he saw what he guessed was a squad of guards, their spears standing taller than them, familiars in their animal forms flanking them from both sides. Front and center, legs spread shoulder width apart and hands behind his back, stood a man dressed in a three-piece suit.

Was that the High Priest? He looked important enough, but Dean doubted only four guards would be with him if he was the leader of the Coven. He eyed the wall stretching out in both directions. There were small openings, like narrow windows, every now and then, but Dean couldn’t make out any figures lurking behind them. If there were more guards they were hidden from them.

Just as their carriage rounded the corner and the men were lost from his view, a shrill cry drew Dean’s attention to the sky. A bald eagle was circling the air above them, descending in a wide spiral towards the gate. 

“Get ready, boys.” John was straightening his jacket, face set with determination. He looked between his sons like he was ready to say something but then decided against it. He gave them a curt nod instead.

The wheels creaked to a stop and the carriage jerked a bit as their driver jumped off to come and open their door. John was the first one to step out, before Bobby pushed Dean to follow him. A couple more carriages were climbing up the hill behind them, but it’d be a while yet before all the vampires would arrive. The night had spread its velvety cape over the sky by then, the first stars twinkling overhead. The only light they had was from the torches set up on either side of the road that led up to the gate, though the vampires would have been fine even without those. 

The man in the suit stepped forward, his guards staying just a step behind him as they all approached John and his family. He was younger than John, but not by much, if the fine lines around his eyes were anything to go by. Though when magic was involved one could never be sure.

Dean could feel the tension radiating from his father next to him. Their own guards had travelled on horses, covered from head to toe so that not even an inch of skin would be exposed to the sun, and they now stood in a half-moon around the carriage. Even their presence did little to calm John. 

Dean stood straighter, shoulders pulled back as the man came to stand before them. His dark eyes moved over them, sizing them up, before landing on the Alpha Vampire. 

“John Winchester,” the man said, his accent heavier than the colorful tune Dean was used to hearing from the humans in the south. “You and your family are welcome in Castle Novak.”

John eyed the hand that was offered suspiciously, then took it and pumped it twice. Dean could see the veins in his father’s hand straining with effort, but the witch didn’t even flinch into what was probably a grip tight enough to crush his bones.

“And where is Mr. Novak?” John asked, releasing the other man’s hand. He wiped his palm on his pants, though he hadn’t removed his gloves. He wasn’t even discreet about it.

Dean gulped. They weren’t starting on a good foot here. If his father was going to act like that then Dean might really win that bet. 

The man, ignoring the clear insult, angled his body away and gestured towards the gate. “The High Priest is waiting for you in the courtyard. If you will please follow me.”

All of a sudden the eagle appeared again, this time flying straight towards them. As it came closer and closer to the ground, its body started distorting, breaking and morphing, until a man landed next to the witch instead of a bird. His familiar, Dean realized with a sharp breath. This was the first time he’d ever seen a shapeshifter change from his animal form to his human one.

There was a pinch of disappointment staining the experience though, for the whole transformation was a bit anticlimactic. It was no different than how vampires turned to bats. And why would there be, he wondered, feeling his ears becoming warmer. After all, vampires were essentially shapeshifters themselves, only with more magic running through their veins, which sure had a lot of advantages, but so many restrictions as well. The sunlight hurting them was one, as well as needing blood to sustain themselves. So maybe shapeshifters had the best of both worlds after all, plus judging from the eagle familiar, they kept their clothes when they transformed. No need to get undressed every time they wanted to shift, like Dean and his family had to do. That seemed a little unfair, he thought, huffing, especially since not transforming with their clothes made it harder to hide from the humans.

Lost in his thoughts, Dean didn’t even notice that their small group had started walking towards the gate until Bobby gave him a gentle shove forward. Dean looked back, smiling sheepishly in a silent apology, and saw that all of their group had arrived. A dozen vampires stood behind their guards now, waiting to follow their Alpha and his family inside the castle. 

Heads and representatives of the most powerful vampire families had made the journey with John. Dean’s own grandfather was standing just a few steps behind Sam, his namesake. The Campbells were one of the oldest families, and plenty of the smaller houses were bound to them either through marriage or loyalty, making them a powerful ally. It was his marriage to Samuel’s daughter, Mary, that had given John enough support to become the Alpha in the first place. 

Without any time left to waste, Dean lengthened his stride and easily caught up to his father. The main gate was groaning open, the front door of the castle just barely visible through the widening crack. 

Behind the walls stretched an enormous estate, with hedges separating sections and creating roads through the neatly trimmed lawn and the flowers. Some of them Dean knew, but a lot he’d never seen before in his life, and he suspected they shouldn’t even be able to grow this far north. Ahead of him, Castle Novak stood in all its glory. Every stone was even and square, so much that no human could have made them. The windows were wide, with intricate decorative patterns woven into the glass with what looked like pure silver. It was nothing like the square and stiff architecture he was used to seeing down south, where the windows were small and cramped to let in as little light as possible. This place looked like it was made for the opposite reason, for the light to drown the halls and rooms hidden behind the thick grey walls of the castle and warm the whole building to its core.

He walked up the path the secretary was following—“Raphael and his familiar, Zachariah,” Bobby hissed next to his ear at some point during their walk inside, but Dean could hardly concentrate. A whole new world was unfolding right before his eyes. If he’d thought that the witch village they’d passed through on their way here was different, then this place was straight out of some storybook.

Making sure to keep his mouth from hanging open in amazement—there was only so much John would allow—he hungrily took in every detail he could. The fountain, where bronze mermaids held up intricately decorated amphorae pouring water from the higher level down to sculpted fish and frogs and flowers. The marble statues lining the road, hidden in alcoves in the hedges. The hint of a gazebo roof just past the west wing of the castle. And the castle itself! There was a light on in one of the rooms, up on the second floor. Someone was gazing down at them—dark hair, a beautiful face, with a frown that looked lovely even from afar. 

Dean stumbled, his whole body tingling like lightning had just struck him. 

_An angel_ , he thought. Everything that had been in his mind up until then faded away. There was no castle, no witches, no war. Just that angel up there. He’d never been more grateful for his increased eyesight before and the opportunity it was giving him to see the gorgeous stranger. 

The angel tilted his head, angling his face a bit differently, and he was looking straight at Dean now. Their eyes met, and for a tiny fraction of a second the world froze. 

Dean’s muscles tensed. The itch to just transform and fly up there was strong, but Sam had a hand on his shoulder already, pulling him back to where he should have been, and the stranger looked away, towards the door. Dean followed his gaze, walking as if in a dream with no control of his body. 

The angel was looking at the man waiting for them—the High Priest, as Bobby very unhelpfully informed both Dean and Sam. Who cared? What did it even matter who the High Priest was when what Dean needed to know was the angel’s name? 

He lifted his eyes back to the window, but the stranger was gone.

Dean had known nothing but discomfort and pain under the sun, but he imagined this must be what it felt like to lose the warm touch of its rays. Like everything was dim and cold now. 

Their group came to an abrupt stop. 

Snapping his head back forward, Dean swallowed. John was giving him a sidelong scowl that meant he knew Dean was distracted, and he was not happy with it. The deal for his sons to be allowed to come here had been clear from the beginning: _keep your guard up, be John’s second pair of eyes everywhere we go_. If they couldn’t do any of that then it’d be straight into a carriage and back home. Now Dean had one more reason to be the perfect son and stay around for as long as these negotiations lasted.

The High Priest was young, too young in Dean’s opinion. John had a good two decades on him. He was clad in deep purple robes and jeweled ropes that slithered around his torso. On closer inspection the jewels depicted the different phases of the moon, from a new moon to a waxing crescent. A hood was drawn down over his face so that only his mouth and nose were visible. 

Wearing a dress of a similar shade and matching jewels around her neck, a woman stood next to him, brown hair in a loose side braid that did little to hide her pointy ears. 

The High Priest and his fae familiar were everything Dean had expected them to be and nothing like it at the same time. They radiated power, their stony expressions never changing as they took in the band of vampires standing before them. Had it not been for his father’s challenging stance, Dean would have bowed down in respect long ago. 

The two leaders sized each other up for a moment. This was a first for both vampires and witches, and there were no rules or protocols for how this was supposed to go down. Navigating the hostility left over after almost a century of fighting and decades of abuse before that was something both parties were struggling with. 

Finally, it was the witches that made the first move. 

“Welcome to Castle Novak,” the High Priest said, accompanied by a nod from his familiar. “We hope your journey was fast and trouble free.”

There was a beat of silence. Bobby discreetly nudged John in the lower back, a move Dean wouldn’t have caught if Bobby’s hand hadn’t brushed Dean’s elbow as he reached forward to get to their Alpha. 

“And we hope we find your household in good health and fortune,” John said through gritted teeth. The rehearsed words sounded hollow to everyone’s ears, but the vampires all released a breath in unison. Even those that were against an alliance with the witches, like the Campbells, knew the danger of John provoking their enemy on their grounds and surrounded by their guards. 

Satisfied, the High Priest pulled his hood back, revealing blue eyes and dark hair. His face remained an unchanged shade of neutrality as the guards behind him moved to open the doors of the castle, though Dean saw no order given. In the next second, the guards were standing between them and the Priest. Their intention became clear when the witch and his familiar turned their backs to them to lead the party inside. As if part of a parade, the group of vampires marched with the guards up the stairs and into the great hall. 

Staying true to the facade’s heavily decorated aesthetic, the reception room was equally grand, with high ceilings and tall windows, intricately carved columns on either side of every door, floral wallpaper with gold details, and a rich mahogany floor. It was hard to keep focused on a single thing. Long tables took up most of the space, overflowing with plates of food and drinks, while candles floating above their heads shed light on the party beneath.

They’d all been checked against a list of names Bobby had sent beforehand before they were allowed inside. More witches from the Coven had been waiting for them there, all standing up as soon as their High Priest stepped inside the room and taking their seat again after he’d sat at the center seat of the largest table. The main figures of the two parties were sitting on opposite sides of that table with their families and councilors, while the rest of the witches and vampires were distributed in the smaller tables. John was in the center of their side, Bobby and Samuel sitting next to him, while Dean and Sam, as his sons, took the remaining seats next to their grandfather.

There was so much to look at, like the statues decorating the room, bending over to greet the newcomers, the High Priest, across from John, sat regal and imposing. It was truly like they'd just walked into a fairytale. 

Dean, however, could pay attention to none of that.

The angel was sitting at their table. Across from Samuel unfortunately and not Dean, but Dean couldn’t help but steal glances every now and then in his direction. If sitting at the table of the main families wasn’t giveaway enough, the likeness between him and the High Priest definitely was. They had the same dark hair and blue eyes, though the angel’s hair was more unruly, his eyes a bit brighter. He didn’t look young enough to be the High Priest’s son, but maybe he was his brother? Or a nephew? Dean would have to find a way to discreetly ask Bobby about that, since he was their expert on all things witches. 

Leaning against his side to catch his attention, Sam chuckled. “Seen anything you like, Dean?”

Looking away from the angel currently engaged in a discussion with the fae familiar sitting across from Dean, he turned to give his brother a smirk. Two could play this game after all. “Do you? Or do you only have eyes for Mrs. Leahy?”

Sam’s reaction was immediate, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks. “Shut up, jerk.”

“Don’t go messing with other people’s business, bitch,” Dean said. Teasing Sam was always fun. Since Dean had caught him making heart eyes at one of their housemaids, and a human one at that, Sam had been careful not to provoke his brother, but it seemed the excitement and nerves from the long journey had made him lower his guard. Dean was not above taking advantage of that.

“At least I’m not drooling in the middle of the welcome feast.” Sam scowled, eyes boring holes in his plate. His ears were still a bright shade of red. “Don't go falling for the enemy,” he added, lowering his voice further. His eyes darted briefly to their grandfather and father, knowing just as well as Dean did what their reaction would be if they even suspected Dean's crush.

Which was why Dean answered, “I'm not. I'm just looking.”

“Well don't let them catch you,” Sam warned. 

The sound of heavy doors opening caught their attention, and both turned their heads to see gold dishes flying inside. They danced between the candles above their heads, before floating down to the tables. Large bowls with two kinds of soup were soaring above every table along with large platters of salad, carefully landing between the plates of finger snacks that had been waiting for them when they'd arrived. Finally, a dish sat in front of each one of them.

Blood curd with chili flakes looked up at Dean, the delicious smell filling his nostrils. Next to him, like the harmless bunny he was, Sam was piling salad on his plate. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he decided to see what the angel’s reaction to the food was. He was sure this was not a dish the witch ate frequently.

A quick inspection of the plates on the other side of the table revealed less gory dishes. The fae had only salad in front of her, while the angel, much like the witches sitting around him, had what looked like stuffed turkey and brussel sprouts with some kind of white sauce. Not the same as the vampires, then. He gazed up, only to find Angel looking back at him already.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. 

Then the fae was tapping a finger on the angel’s hand to get his attention and the gorgeous stranger was looking away again. 

“Blood curd? Can you believe this?” Samuel hissed next to Dean, pulling him out of his trance. “Do they think we should be grateful they’re giving us blood curd?”

To his other side, Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably, their grandfather’s words clearly loud enough for him to hear. None of the witches seemed to notice, though the fae’s expression faltered for a second. Leaning a bit forward, Dean caught the dismay written across his father’s face.

“At least they took our diet into consideration,” John said, low enough that even Dean had to struggle to hear him.

“It’s the least they can do,” Samuel said, face sour.

Bobby was the one to answer Samuel, but this time Dean couldn’t hear a word. His father’s face was still tight, though. 

Dean imagined it couldn’t be easy for him. Not only did he have to deal with the disagreement of a small but loud part of his people that didn’t want anything to do with the witches, but his own father-in-law didn’t support him after coming all this way. Had Mary Winchester been sitting between John and Dean instead of Samuel, would things be different? Dean wanted to think they would. The few memories he had of his mother were filled with warmth and happiness. She’d been nothing like her father.

“I want to change my bet,” Sam whispered, nudging Dean with his foot under the table.

Returning to sit with his back against the chair, Dean turned to his brother. “Oh, really?”

“It’ll be grandpa that’ll get us thrown out of here.”

Dean shook his head from side to side, considering that. “I don’t know. I think Bobby can keep them in check.”

“Dean, talks haven’t even started. This is only a celebration and things are already going downhill,” Sam said.

“Relax, everything’s going to be fine. Dad and Bobby can handle Grandpa, I promise. This treaty is too important for both sides.” Gazing at the angel sitting at the opposite side of the table, Dean smiled. “And _we_ can enjoy the local delicacies.”

Sam rolled his eyes, not even bothering to hide it. “Dude, you’re gross.”

“What? I meant the blood curd,” Dean answered, giving his brother a wink. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Sammy.”

Sam turned his attention back to his food, stabbing his fork down with far too much power for some measly salad. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Stupid? Me? Like what?” Dean asked, bringing a hand to his chest in fake shock at his brother’s accusation.

“I don’t know, like _charming_ your way into a witch’s pants. Or worse using your powers to get him to open his collar enough for you to _taste the local delicacies.”_

Dean scoffed. “Not all of us need to use our charming glamour to get into someone’s pants. Or under a skirt for that matter. How’s that working for you by the way? Has Eileen let you hold her hand yet?”

“Oh my God, Dean,” Sam exclaimed, louder than he intended. A few heads turned to their direction, startled by the outburst, though Dean wasn’t bothered much. The angel was looking straight at him again. And was that a smile playing at the corners of his lips?

Sam on the other hand had to mumble a quick apology, shrinking under the glare their father turned on them. Getting the angel’s attention _and_ getting Sam to shut his mouth? Two birds with one stone. Dean couldn’t complain.

Sam wasn’t done with the discussion though. He leaned towards Dean and said, “It’s not like that with Eileen. And, anyway, Eileen isn't our enemy."

"Relax, Sammy," Dean said, digging into his food. "I just want to talk to him alone."

"Alone? If they catch you—"

"Don't worry," Dean cut him off, "my plan is foolproof."

The feast lasted far longer than Dean would have liked. He barely had a couple of hours left before dawn, and he wasn't going to waste even a single minute. Luckily, he and Sam shared a small room, separate from their father, at the house they were staying at. Sneaking out through the window would be easy after everyone had returned from the feast and withdrawn to their own rooms. 

Leaving his clothes in a neat pile on the floor, Dean transformed into a bat, the familiar burn of muscles and pain in his bones blinding him for a second. When he opened his eyes again, his body was covered in dark fur. He flew into the night, taking note of the guards still making their rounds as he approached the castle. Familiars were prowling the sky too, but Dean's small and dark form helped him slip through. He headed straight for the window he'd seen the blue-eyed angel at earlier that night. 

His heart skipped a beat. The light was on and the window open. Was this an invitation? 

Before he could second-guess himself, Dean swooped down towards the window sill, transforming right at the moment he was through and landing on both feet. At the same time, his hand found the curtain closest to him, wrapping the velvety material around his waist.

He’d been right, this was the angel’s bedroom. And the angel himself was currently sitting cross-legged on his bed, a book open in front of him. At the sound of Dean’s arrival, he had lifted his head and was now curiously peering at him. 

Dean rolled his shoulders back, willing himself to relax. There was nothing to be nervous about here. He had no intention of using his powers on the young witch, but he rarely had to use them in the first place for anything else but to convince his… food donors to forget that their encounter had ever even happened. Flirting and teasing came naturally to him, so he decided to just let go and let his charisma do all the work.

The angel quirked his head to the side, eyes squinting. He said, “You’re the bat boy from the feast.” His eyes travelled lower. “And you’re naked.”

Dean flushed under the attention. Awkwardly, he lifted the hand not holding the curtain and gave a small wave. “Hello.” A pause. “I’m Dean.” So much for his charisma and sweet-talking skills.

Closing the book, the angel pushed himself off the bed. “Hello, Dean,” he said, coming to stand before him. “I’m Castiel.” 

“Castiel,” Dean repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. It was a name straight out of a fairytale. He liked that. And he also liked how Castiel’s eyes were so much brighter up close. He thought he could get lost just looking into them.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asked.

Feeling his ears burn, Dean realized he’d been staring like an idiot; Castiel was staring right back, though. “I thought I’d come by and introduce myself. It seemed like the polite thing to do.”

“You could have introduced yourself at the feast.”

“That wouldn’t make the same impression, would it?” 

Castiel’s eyes travelled from Dean’s toes all the way up to his face again. He smirked. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.” 

A shiver traced its fingertips up Dean’s spine. Castiel made him tingle in all the right ways. “A good impression, I hope.”

“We’ll see about that,” Castiel answered, narrowing his eyes. 

Dean felt his own lips curling up in response. “Does this mean you’re not kicking me out?”

“I’ve never met a vampire before,” Castiel said instead of an answer. He was still standing in front of Dean, hands loose at his side. Their slight height difference meant that he had to tip his head back just a bit to look straight into Dean’s eyes, and it stretched his neck beautifully.

Dean snapped his eyes back up. “Lucky you. You get me all to yourself tonight.” He added a wink for good measure.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I see the stories are true. You people are shameless flirts.”

“Nah, that’s just me.”

“Well you’re not very good at it,” Castiel pointed out, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Dean laughed awkwardly. He tried to shake himself. What was he doing? He knew how to flirt, and yet he was letting Castiel walk all over him. But there was something about Castiel that made him more nervous than usual, made him stumble over his words and lose his train of thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, but it certainly wasn’t helping his efforts to impress Castiel.

“Subtlety was never my strong point.” 

“Yeah, I got that when you showed up naked in my room,” Castiel said dryly, and that got another laugh out of Dean, genuine this time.

“Your humor is weird, but I like it.”

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever heard. You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“I’m not usually like this,” Dean admitted. “You’re a special case.”

Castiel shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Should I be honored?”

“I was hoping you’d be flattered enough to let me accompany you sometime? Go for a walk or something?”

“With clothes next time?” Castiel asked, making a show of not looking at what the curtain was covering.

Dean grinned in response. “Clothes are optional. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Noted.” Castiel stepped back, leaning with his back against the dresser, arms folded. “Tell me, does this ever work out for you?”

Dean shrugged, his hold on the thin material tightening. “Every time. Until now.” He wasn’t bragging. He was just stating the truth, hoping Castiel would appreciate that. “The audience is tough tonight,” he added.

“A special case, right?” Castiel tilted his head to the side, considering Dean. “You’re… interesting, I’ll give you that.”

“And that means…” Dean trailed off, waiting to hear the verdict. 

“It means, it’s time for you to go. It’s a busy day tomorrow, and we both need to rest.”

A hand over his chest, Dean’s face twisted with fake agony. “Ah, you wound me. And here I thought you liked me.”

“Michael has an important meeting with your Alpha tomorrow. He’s your father right?”

“Ah… yeah. He’s my dad,” Dean said, confused. This was not what he expected to be talking about. And he thought that despite his nerves, this had been going well.

Castiel nodded. “Michael is my brother. So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Perking up, Dean grinned at him. “Tomorrow? Is that a promise?”

“If you accompany your father, then sure, it’s a promise,” Castiel said.

“Alright. Tomorrow then.” Dean stood there, feeling his cheeks hurting with how wide his smile was. Only when Castiel tilted his head in confusion again did he realize he was just waiting around like an idiot. “Right, yeah, tomorrow. I better go then. Um, bye, Cas.”

“Cas?”

Dean shrugged. “I thought I should give you a nickname. Now that we’re friends and all.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Yet.”

“See you later, Bat Boy,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes.

With a final salute, Dean transformed, the curtain falling away. He flew out the window, stomach fluttering when he realized Castiel was watching him soar through the night. And they had a sort of date tomorrow, too! 

Rolling his body and flapping his wings, he flew even higher, drawing invisible circles in the air to celebrate. He was at the top of the world and nothing could shoot him down.

Michael was in that sweet moment between sleeping and being awake. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of memories and worries about tomorrow's meeting. Melting into his soft mattress, he let his mind float from one place to the other, feeling his muscles becoming heavier with every passing second. 

Before he was completely asleep, something creaked, pulling him from his slumber. He stirred, trying to shake the haze from his brain. 

Another creak.

Something was wrong.

Before he had the time to complete that thought, he felt someone move close to him. Adrenaline flooding his veins, he lifted his hand in defense at the same time an arm was wrapped around his neck. Something glinted in the moonlight, the edge of a knife being raised, and Michael knew he had to do something fast or he wouldn’t live to see the sunrise.

He reached blindly, finding the hand wrapped around his throat, and used every ounce of concentration he had to blast a wave of magic through the assailant’s arm. He had wanted to send him flying to the other side of the room, but in his rush and confusion only managed to make the man twist with pain. The knife, thankfully, fell from his hand.

The assailant groaned, his hold on Michael relaxing enough for him to take a deep breath and regain his composure. His second attack was strong and focused, and the man was blown away, his back hitting the wall. 

Michael jumped out of bed at the same time Dorothy burst through the door connecting their rooms. She had her bow in hand already, poised to shoot. Her eyes flew from Michael to the outline of the man trying to get up from the floor. She lifted her weapon and aimed, but with a poof, the man disappeared, something small and winged taking his place. Before either could react, the bat flew out of the room and into the corridor. 

“Call the guards,” Michael said, fumbling on the floor for the knife. “Don’t let him get away.”

Dorothy was already running after the assailant, hair flying behind her. “I’ll send men to check on Castiel. Lock all the windows and doors. Don’t open for anyone but me.”

Hand closing around the hilt, Michael lifted the knife up to inspect it under the moonlight. It was short but sharp, with dark leather wrapped around its grip. The letter _W_ was carved on its pommel.

“Michael, we’ve got him.”

Dorothy’s voice followed three knocks on his door. She was still wearing her nightgown when he opened it, but every hint of sleep was gone from her face.

“And Cassie?” Michael asked immediately. He’d been driving himself crazy with worry from the moment the assailant had left the room. What if he had decided to go after the next best target? What if he’d already gotten to Michael’s brother before coming after Michael himself? 

“He’s okay,” Dorothy reassured him, a hand grabbing his shoulder and squeezing. “He’s confused, but he’s safe.”

Relief washing through him, Michael nodded. “Good. You have a guard staying with him for tonight?”

Dorothy used her hold on him to lead him out of the room and towards the main stairs. “Of course. We have familiars watching his window as well.”

“And you say you caught the guy?”

They walked down the stairs and out of the castle. The night was cold, but Michael couldn’t feel it. His whole body was still vibrating with alertness. They walked along the lower terrace until they came to the door leading to the underground prison. 

Dorothy entered first, creating an orb of light with a wave of her hand to guide them down.

“We caught him trying to fly away,” she said. “A cat shifter ambushed him from a tree and tackled him to the ground.”

They rounded the corner, the light catching on the bars of the first prison cells. Half a dozen guards were standing further down the room, but they all stepped aside the moment they noticed their High Priest approaching. A form was curled inside the last cell, naked and trembling. He had his head lowered, but when Michael stepped closer, he glanced up at him. The vampire was young, with light brown hair and green eyes. Michael had seen him before, arriving with the Alpha a few hours earlier—John’s eldest son, Dean Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

The pounding on the front door was loud enough to wake the dead. Certainly loud enough to wake John two floors up. Squinting his eyes open, he checked the time on the clock above the fireplace across from his bed. It was barely dawn. Grumbling, he pushed himself up. What did these godforsaken witches want now? They should know better than to bother them this early. 

Wrapped in his robe, he walked out of his room to find Samuel and Bobby already at the top of the stairs.

“What’s going on?” John asked, looking between his right-hand man and his father-in-law.

“No one has answered the door yet,” Samuel said, as if the insistent knocking wasn’t hint enough.

“So what are we waiting for?” John asked.

Bobby raised his eyebrows at him. “You.”

Cursing under his breath, John led their small group downstairs. He ignored the heads peeking through doors and concentrated his fury on the fools still banging on the front door with all their might.

Sam came out of his room and fell into step with them, worry written over his face. “Dad, what’s going on?” 

“Stay in your room, Sam, I’ll take care of this. Where’s your brother?” A quick glance around revealed no trace of his eldest son. But if Sam was awake, so was Dean. He wouldn’t leave his brother’s side while they were on enemy territory.

Sam hesitated before answering. “Still sleeping.”

John knew when his sons lied to him, but it wasn’t the time to address that, because they were already standing in front of the door. The balcony above the main entrance provided enough shade for John to open it without worrying about the sun. Four of the witch guards were standing before him, the secretary’s familiar in front of them. John couldn’t see the guards’ familiars, but he wasn’t a fool; they were probably somewhere close by, keeping watch. Witches rarely went anywhere without their familiars, especially at such troubled times.

“Mr. Winchester,” Zachariah gritted, voice cold. “Our High Priest has sent me to relay a message.”

Accepting the offered piece of paper, John eyed the bald man suspiciously. Whatever the witches wanted from them at such an ungodly hour, it wasn’t good. As his eyes scanned the document, John felt a sense of foreboding settle over him.

_...forfeit our offer of allegiance…_

_...evacuate the premises immediately…_

_...attend the trial of our prisoner…_

“I’ll wait here while you get ready, and escort your carriages out of our city. You have an hour.” 

John looked up to find a small smirk on Zachariah’s face. Instead of answering him, he turned to his son.

“Sam, where is Dean?”

Squirming under the scrutiny of every pair of eyes present, Sam hesitated once again. “I— Dad, what do they want?” he asked instead of answering.

A pit formed in John’s stomach, his sight growing dark at the edges. For a second he was numb. Then anger welled up inside him, drowning anything else. “I want to see my son,” he demanded, glaring at the suited man standing among the guards. His own escorts were just now arriving, having been called by Samuel, probably. 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Zachariah said, hands loosely held in front of him. “Your son is currently facing charges of treason and is not allowed any visitors. You’ll find though that our High Priest was kind enough to allow a small group of your kind to attend his trial, when the date is set. Until then none of you are welcome here.”

John was fuming. The witches had his son. They were talking about trials, and prisons, and treason like Dean was their subject. Dean was _his son_. How dare they lay a hand on his son?

Sensing the change in his mood, the vampire guards stepped forward, hands on their swords, but Bobby stopped them. “We want to know what Dean is accused of. From where we stand, you just abducted one of our own without any reason.”

“The only thing you need to know is that your boy was caught red-handed. We have enough evidence of his guilt. The trial is just a formality at this point.”

This was ridiculous. The witches were playing games with them. 

“I want to speak to the High Priest myself.” John took a threatening step towards Zachariah, but his guards unsheathed their weapons almost instantly. It was clear they could either gather their stuff and go or fight their way to the castle. Every fiber of his body screamed for him to tear these men apart, let them feel the anger he’d accumulated all these years. They’d taken his friends away from him, and family. They’d taken Mary. He wasn’t about to let them take Dean, too.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned around, surprised to find Samuel instead of Bobby. “Come on, son. We have to leave.”

“But Dean,” John tried.

“We can’t help him right now. Let’s go back home. Regroup. And we’ll figure something out.”

“It’s nice to see that someone around here knows the right thing to do,” Zachariah said, his lips stretching into a devilish grin. “We’ll bring the carriages here so they’re ready to leave immediately. Remember, you have an hour.”

“Unbelievable! Those filthy herb-grinders. Insolent broom-huggers.”

“John, calm down,” Bobby barked, hands crossed over his chest.

Their drivers, covered from head to toe in dark clothes and scarves to brave the sun, were pushing the horses to their limit. They had to be out of the witches territory and fast. John, Bobby, Sam and Samuel were in the main car, the latter three trying to calm the former down. 

There was no calming down for John, however. The witches had played him for a fool. This whole thing had been a trap all along, he was sure of it, and he’d walked right into it.

“They have Dean, Bobby,” John snapped, fangs bared. “It’s easy for you to be calm when you don’t have a son for them to abduct.”

Bobby’s fist hit the side of their carriage with enough force to break a hole through the wood. “I love Dean as if he was my own son, you know that,” he roared. A beam of light invaded their dark space when he drew his hand back. The skin around his knuckles was red and irritated from the exposure to the sun, but he ignored it.

“For God’s sake, man. Cover that hole up,” Samuel said, not bothering to hide his disdain. 

John ignored his father-in-law’s demand, too busy engaged in a glaring contest with his oldest friend. It was Sam that shoved a glove in the hole in the end.

“And what do you suggest we do?” John asked, finally.

“Well for starters, we should find out what Dean was doing out of his bed in the first place,” Bobby suggested, raising an eyebrow in Sam’s direction.

John hadn’t forgotten his son’s lies, not even close, but he’d been a little preoccupied with packing up his whole company and getting the hell out of the witches’ city in less than an hour. Oh how he’d hated the way that bald bird had looked at him while they were leaving. He was still burning with fury. 

Fury he now directed at his son, silently demanding answers.

Sam curled in on himself under the three pairs of eyes boring holes into him. “He said he was going for a flight. Wanted to see the castle and the city from above. We didn’t know they’d arrest him.”

His eyes darted between the three older men, and just like that, John knew there was something more. “Sam.”

Sam shifted in his seat, hands held tightly together to the point that his knuckles were white. “I—“ he tried, looking between them for any sign of support, but no one moved to reassure him. “I think there was someone he wanted to see? He didn’t tell me much.”

John saw red. “Those demon bitches!”

He’d been right all along. This whole treaty thing had been an elaborate trap from the beginning. For all he knew, the witches had orchestrated the whole hunter uprising and consequent fear of war to annihilate the vampires in the first place. And Dean, poor, gullible Dean, had been the easiest target. John had never minded his son’s short and numerous flings, but they’d never been cause for him to worry before. It seemed, however, that the witches had found a way to take advantage of that weakness. And now they had Dean and wouldn’t even tell them the official charges. The further away they rode from that cursed castle, the more helpless John felt. 

“Balls,” Bobby cursed under his breath, probably having reached the same conclusion as John. 

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Samuel said, his face a mask of calm. How this man managed to remain unaffected by everything was still a mystery to John. Mary had told him once that the war had hardened her father, but even in their most personal crises, Samuel seemed to be the only one able to keep his head in the game; it was a quality John loathed and respected at the same time. “We have to go back home and reorganize. Then we declare war.”

Bobby gasped. “No. Not war. Not yet. Last time half of us died.”

John regarded them both. His paternal instincts and wounded pride screamed for retaliation. He wanted to call all his men to arms, to rain hell down on the witches. But his rational side recognized that might make them hurt Dean faster. If they could negotiate with the witches long enough to find a way to break him out and bring him back home first, John would grasp at every chance for that. But it was not solely his decision to make.

“We reach home, and then we hold council.”

The castle was buzzing with conversation that morning. After being woken up by Anna in the early hours of dawn, Castiel had been forced to stay in his room while Dorothy and the guards worked tirelessly to secure the grounds. It’d been two hours before Michael had found some time to come and tell him what had happened, and Castiel was still shocked from the news. 

A murder attempt. And they were blaming Dean for it.

Anna and Inias were keeping him company—not guarding him, as they’d told him plenty of times already, though the worry lines around Michael’s eyes would beg to differ—but he didn’t feel like joining them in gossiping about their new prisoner. The word left something bitter in the back of his throat.

He liked Dean. Sure he’d been a bit cocky and probably looking for a quick lay, but he was also funny and intriguing. Even if Castiel hadn’t been planning to give in to the Bat Boy’s advances, he’d thought Dean could be fun to be around for a few days. Their teasing and flirting certainly had been interesting.

Except for the part where Dean had been planning to murder his older brother all along.

Forcing back the tears burning in his eyes, Castiel turned to look at his friends.

“We’re basically on lockdown and he’s still in the library,” Inias was saying. Like always, he was talking about his familiar. “Can you believe it? Someone tried to kill our High Priest, and he just walks around like it’s any other normal day.”

“But that’s just how Kevin is,” Anna said, a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “He’s always been like that, you can’t just ask him to change.”

“I know, I know. I just… I worry about him, okay? Did you know the other day he almost got hit by a bucket? Damn fool was walking under a ladder, nose stuck inside a book, of course. Didn’t even notice there was someone on the ladder.”

Anna winced. “I mean, you were there to save him. So

that’s good.”

Shaking his head, Inias sighed. “I just wish I didn’t have to follow him around all day to make sure he’s safe. You don’t have to do that with Charlie.”

“I guess not,” Anna said. “But Charlie has always been very independent. And she’s a strong fighter. She’s been training with Dorothy, you know.”

“Is it true that it was Charlie that caught the vampire assassin?” Castiel interrupted, walking to where his friends were sitting by the window, lounging in the sun. No safer place to be than in the sunlight when dealing with vampires.

“It is,” Anna said, nodding. The pride for her familiar was evident in her voice. “She caught him while he was trying to fly away and she was patrolling the trees making up the inner fence.”

“And? What did she say?” Castiel urged his friend on.

“He was young,” Anna said, shrugging. “Tried to lie his way out of it. No one believed him of course. What else was the Alpha’s son doing in our castle that late. Or early. Ugh trying to keep up with vampire time is hard.”

Yeah, what else would the Alpha’s son have been doing in their castle? 

Castiel himself had been surprised when the Bat Boy had shown up in his room, and even more so when it turned out he only wanted to talk. Chances were he’d only used Castiel, maybe to give himself an alibi, or maybe he’d really meant to get information on their guards out of him. Had he asked Castiel anything like that? He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t be sure either.

Inias gave him a soft smile, completely misreading Castiel’s silence. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll keep both you and Michael safe.”

“Thank you, Inias. That means a lot,” Castiel said, though his brother’s safety was only one of his worries. He was too preoccupied trying to understand Dean. 

He so far hadn’t told anyone the vampire had visited him, deciding it wasn’t worth a lecture from Michael and having guards sleeping in his bed with him for the foreseeable future. He truly hadn’t thought he was in any danger. Dean had been sitting at the same table as him earlier that night, for God’s sake. To be frank, Castiel still had trouble believing he’d misjudged Dean that much. In his mind, the Bat Boy that had stood naked at the same spot his friends were now sitting didn’t seem like a killer. Had he really been fooled that much?

How could he find out the truth?

Conjuring a fireball to light his way, Castiel took a deep breath. He was possibly crazy for doing this, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to calm down unless he talked with Dean himself. 

As he approached the last cell, the guard on duty looked up, a similar fireball floating above his head. Recognizing Castiel, he hastily stood up, a hand coming up to give him a formal salute.

“My Lord. I didn’t know you’d be visiting.”

He wasn’t one of the guards Anna and Inias usually hung with, so Castiel wasn’t terribly familiar with him other than having seen him around a couple of times. It didn’t matter. His position meant he could get what he wanted anyway.

“I wish to speak to our prisoner.”

A bundle of blankets inside the cell moved, Dean’s head poking out of it. He was curled in the corner, as far from the guard as he could get, but his eyes were focused on Castiel.

“My Lord,” the guard started. “I don’t have any instructions for—”

“I’m giving you your instruction now,” Castiel cut him off. “Leave us.”

“But it’s not—”

“Are you challenging a direct command?” 

The guard paled at that question. “No, my Lord. I’ll leave right away, my Lord.” 

Castiel’s heart was beating so loudly it drowned out the footsteps of the guard leaving.

The warm light of the fireball was casting soft shadows on Dean’s face, but it couldn’t hide the deep circles under his eyes or the dried tear marks down his cheeks. And yet he faced Castiel with his head held high. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Is it true? Did you try to kill Michael?” 

There was a muscle pulsing under Dean’s jaw, anger flashing in his eyes. “Of course not. How could you believe that? Why didn’t you tell them I was with you the whole time?”

“Were you?” Castiel shot back, a giant pit of dread twisting in his stomach. “You had plenty of time after you left my room.”

“I was naked when I left your room! If I had a weapon on me you think you wouldn’t have seen it?”

Narrowing his eyes in assessment, Castiel considered that for a moment. He’d asked himself the same question, of course, but where there’s will there’s a way. Dean could have hidden the dagger somewhere before coming to Castiel’s room and retrieved it again afterwards. And every vampire had a motive, the Alpha’s son maybe most of all. Generations of them had lived and died as slaves at the hands of witches. While the vampires had been free for over a century now, their long war had claimed numerous lives from both sides before it’s end two decades ago.

Both of Castiel’s parents had died near the end of the fighting, leaving Michael to inherit the position of High Priest when he was barely sixteen. The effect of that war was still evident in every protective sigil carved inside the walls of this castle and the houses down in the city. In every story that had been passed down from father to son. In the witches’ decision to withdraw from any affair that involved humans, since the vampires had chosen to go into hiding among the mortals. 

Had it not been for the Men of Letters resurgence and the growing hate towards every magical creature, this treaty negotiation wouldn’t have been happening in the first place. 

So yes, Dean had a motive, and he certainly had the time. Castiel had seen the dagger Michael found, and even if the monogram on it didn’t point to the Winchesters on first sight, then the several people testifying they saw John Winchester wearing it at the welcome feast left no doubt as to who it belonged to.

And yet things still didn’t add up in his mind. Why had Dean visited him? Every time he reached that point in his reasoning he came up blank. And the only person that could answer that was in front of him, dirty and naked under a threadbare blanket, holding Castiel’s gaze like only an innocent person could.

“They had your father’s dagger,” Castiel said. “Whoever tried to kill Michael had it.”

“What? That’s impossible,” Dean said immediately, eyes wide. “They must have stolen it, Cas. I swear neither me nor Dad had anything to do with this. You have to believe me, I’m begging you. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“What were you doing in my room?”

Dean shook his head, mouth pressed in a thin line. But then he was gazing straight back at Castiel, frustration written into every tense line of his body. “I swear I only wanted to get to know you _._ I had no hidden motive. Why would I sneak into your room first if I wanted to kill your freaking brother? Nothing makes sense, don’t you get it?”

“I… I do,” Castiel admitted with a shaky voice. It was strange, but he believed Dean. Deep in his gut he believed he was telling the truth. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense.”

Crawling forward until he was almost pressed against the bars separating them, Dean looked up at Castiel pleadingly. “Cas, you have to tell them the truth. Tell them I was with you. They’ll have to let me go then.”

“I’ll find a way to help you,” Castiel promised.

Lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, Castiel was trying to come up with what he was going to tell Michael. If he admitted Dean was with him that night, then he was in for a big lecture and would probably be grounded for the rest of his life. But at least Dean would be free. _If_ Michael took Castiel’s word for Dean’s innocence, that was. 

Groaning, he rolled to his side, gathering his legs close to his body. He believed Dean, he really did. He just didn’t know how to convince everyone else.

A knock on his door slashed right through all his worries. “My Lord, the High Priest has requested to see you.”

Castiel gulped. There was no way this was for something normal, like his studies or the cancelled Familiar Meetings, was there? Probably not.

He found Michael looking out his study's window, gazing at their guards making the rounds down in the garden. Everyone was on high alert, increasing the guards around the castle and the city. Even Castiel himself should have been followed by a couple of men at all times, and the only reason Anna and Inias had let him out of their sight was because he told them he was going to find Dorothy. His brother's familiar was their strongest warrior, and the fact she'd chosen Michael showed how much respect she had for their High Priest. There was no one better to look after Michael and Castiel during a time of crisis.

Fae didn't usually mingle with other species, whether magical or mortal, and it had only been chance that Dorothy and Michael had met during a minor conflict the fae had with the humans about ten years ago. Dorothy had been so impressed with Michael's leadership skills and magic knowledge, she'd agreed to follow him back to the witch city and become his familiar. Since then she'd become his best friend, most trusted advisor and the perfect ambassador to keep fae-witch relations friendly and conflict-free.

If Castiel ever found a familiar of his own, he hoped he could meet them like Michael had met Dorothy and not in the Familiar Meetings most people attended when they turned twenty-one. Sitting at a table for five minutes with a person before moving to the next was hardly ideal for meeting someone he'd be bound with for the rest of his life, platonically or otherwise. Just because it'd worked for his friends so far didn't mean it'd work for him.

"My guards are bringing me worrying news, Cassie," Michael said, without turning around. His hands were clasped behind his back, shoulders tight. "They're telling me you went down to visit our prisoner."

Castiel gulped. He hadn’t expected to be discovered so quickly and was hardly prepared to face his brother head on. 

“I wanted to see what the prisoner looked like,” he admitted in a low voice. “But Michael, I don’t think you have the right person. There’s no way someone like him could have attacked you.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael was the perfect picture of composure. If Castiel hadn’t known him as good as he did, he’d have never been able to see the storm behind his blue eyes.

“And why do you think that? Because he’s young? Or because he insists he’s innocent? He’s a vampire. They killed hundreds of us. They killed our parents, Cassie. Inviting them here was the perfect chance for them to kill more of us, and I was enough of an idiot to let them try.”

“But they only killed us because we kept them as prisoners,” Castiel said, daring to question his brother. “We were keeping them as slaves. You can’t fault them for fighting us.”

“They fought us for a hundred years. I’m not making excuses for our ancestors, but I’m not making excuses for people that dragged out a war for over a century over a grudge. Their crimes were as big as ours.”

“Michael—"

“They’re our enemies,” Michael snapped, face hard. “Whatever lies that blood-sucker told you, you shouldn't believe him. Even if he wasn’t the one holding the knife himself, he was certainly involved. Why else was he on our premises?”

“But—”

“No buts.” Sighing, Michael spun around, closing the distance between them in two swift steps. His hand was heavy on Castiel’s shoulder, but not in the warm, reassuring way it usually was. It felt more like a burden. “Trust me, he’s guilty. Of what exactly we’ve yet to see, but it won’t be long before he cracks down there and confesses their plan. But until then, you’re prohibited from going anywhere near the prisoner or the cells. Do you understand?” 

Lost for words, Castiel stared at his brother. How was he going to make him understand, when Michael refused to even listen to him? It seemed everyone but Castiel had already decided Dean was going to pay for the attempt against Michael’s life whether he was truly guilty or not, and there was nothing Castiel could do to stop them.

Feeling cold inside, he nodded. 

Michael’s shoulders shagged with relief. “That’s a good boy,” he said. “Most of our normal schedule has been postponed, but you’re free to go back to your herbology studies if you want. Staying where guards can always keep an eye on you, of course.”

“Of course,” Castiel agreed weakly. 

“Your teacher showed me your essay on the Blood Calendula. Impressive.”

“Thank you. It’s a very interesting plant to study.”

Squeezing Castiel’s shoulder, Michael nodded. “I’m sure it is. You’ll do great things with it one day. Now, I won’t hold you any longer. Raphael will be by soon with Zach. We have to discuss how to tighten our defenses around the city. I pray that I’m wrong and we’re not on the verge of a new war, but we have to be prepared for every possibility.”

There was nothing else left for Castiel to do but to accept what Michael was telling him. If he was going to help Dean, he had to do it alone, he decided at that moment.

“Earth to Castiel. Hello?”

A hand was waving right in front of his eyes. Blinking back into the present, Castiel found Charlie staring at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“You okay there?” Anna asked, looking up from the book she was reading.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Castiel said quickly. He was distracted lately. His friends had noticed of course, and had taken it upon themselves to draw him out of his room and entertain him, thinking that he was worried about the vampires attacking them. They couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d spent the last couple of days trying to come up with a plan to help Dean, but so far he had nothing. “What are you guys doing?”

“Watching Hannah and Kevin have a glaring contest,” Charlie sighed, gesturing at the two bent over a chess board. It was hard to tell from afar, but Castiel thought maybe Kevin was winning. “Hannah hasn’t made a move in the last ten minutes or so.”

“It’s because I have her cornered,” Kevin said easily.

“No, it’s because I’m trying to find the quickest way to end this match,” Hannah replied, though the way her mouth twisted with frustration called her out on her lie. “What do you prefer, check in three moves or four?”

Kevin laughed. “Keep dreaming, little witch.”

They were all gathered in the small private garden under Castiel’s window, except for Inias who was guarding Dean for the next couple of hours. Usually Kevin should have been with him, as his familiar, but Kevin had always been a loner, and would rather spend his time with books and chess than follow his witch during training and guard duties. Charlie, on the other hand, was almost more passionate about her position in the royal guard than Anna herself. The fact that Dorothy had personally picked Charlie to train under her was her greatest achievement to this day, and Anna would often tease her familiar for caring more about Dorothy’s pretty eyes than her cool moves. Charlie of course refused that with all her might. Cool moves were just as important as pretty eyes, she declared to anyone willing to listen.

Hannah, being the youngest of all of them, still didn’t have a familiar, but soon she’d attend the Meetings with Castiel. She was already excited for the prospect of meeting a shifter that she’d _click_ with, and they’d be able to form a bond. 

A familiar was important for every witch. The bond made their magic flow more easily, and if they used some part of their familiar in their spell—hair, feathers, or a drop of blood—then the spell would be that much stronger. Having a familiar, though, wouldn’t have helped Castiel in his current predicament. His problem wasn't that his magic wasn't strong enough, his problem was that if he used a spell to sneak Dean out of prison, Michael would be able to trace the spell back to him. Every witch had a signature to their magic that was unique to each of them. The same way someone couldn't replicate someone else's handwriting, a witch couldn't replicate the essence of another witch's magic. And it was a simple spell to read that signature and find the caster of a spell. 

So magic was out of the question for Castiel. Considering he had no talent with lockpicking, he figured mechanical ways were out of the question, too. Maybe he could find a way to steal the key?

"Wow, you really can't concentrate today, can you?" Charlie said, cutting his thoughts in half. "What are you daydreaming about?"

"Oh, ah… just some things I read while studying. Spell stuff," he said quickly, throwing out the first thing that came to his mind.

Anna raised an eyebrow at him, closing her book and setting it to the side. "You're worried about your spell work?"

"I'm not worried," Castiel clarified. "Just curious about the mechanics of things. You know I like to dig a little deeper."

"Cas, no offence, but if you dig any deeper into your studies you'll reach one of Kevin's rat burrows," Charlie pointed out.

"Hey, I'm a mouse, thank you very much," Kevin called.

Charlie stuck her tongue out to him. "Both taste the same."

"I'd like to see you try," he challenged her, a playful glint to his eyes.

"One day you won't have Inias to put himself between us like a knight in shining armor. That day I'll introduce you to my teeth," Charlie promised, though they all knew she was just teasing. Despite being a cat shifter, she'd never shown interest in mice or rats.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Anna ignored her familiar's jests at Kevin. Her big eyes bore into Castiel, making him uncomfortable.

"You're good with spells, but you've never shown any interest in them outside what was mandatory for us to learn," she said. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Castiel was quick to say. "I'm only trying to figure out how to work around a spell's limitation."

"You can't," Anna pointed out. "Spells have limits because there are limits to what our magic can do. You know that."

"If a spell or a potion can't do it, then it's not possible," Hannah agreed, nodding. Brow furrowed, she moved a chess piece around. Seeing the grin spreading on Kevin's face was enough for all of them to understand she'd made a mistake, even if it wasn't evident yet what that mistake was. She groaned, shaking her head.

"We can start over," Kevin offered.

But Cas didn't hear Hannah's answer. He was too busy thinking over what she'd said just a moment ago.

_If a spell or a potion can't do it..._

_Huh._

Why didn't he think of that?

The ingredients he needed for the potion were fairly easy to find. Their Apothecary stocked all of them, but if Castiel wanted to keep his plan a secret, he couldn’t use their stock. The witches kept very careful records, not only of anyone taking potion and spell ingredients, but also of every restock and of people coming and going, even if all they did was take a look around. It wouldn’t do to have his name on a list of suspects once Michael figured out what kind of potion was used to free Dean and then looked at the Apothecary records to find the culprit.

Thankfully, most of the ingredients could easily be found with a stroll around the woods surrounding their castle, too. Sneaking away from the guards wasn’t easy, but Castiel had enough experience already. Being the only family member of an overprotective High Priest was the perfect way to hone one’s stealth skills.

It took most of his morning to gather everything he needed. By the time he dropped under the thick shade of a birch tree, his shirt was sticking to his back with sweat, despite the low temperatures that were common that far up north. 

Leaning his head back against the trunk, he closed his eyes. His mind was telling him that he was going through a lot of trouble for a vampire he’d met a total of three times—and one of them was with bars between them—but there was this warm, shiny feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of Dean. He was innocent. Deep in his bones, Castiel knew that, and he couldn’t accept that Dean was currently in jail for making the mistake of wanting to get to know _Castiel_ better. The weird tingling sensation that rushed through him when he remembered Dean in his room, naked and adorably awkward, only helped to further convince him that he was doing the right thing.

He was getting Dean out of that prison cell no matter what. 

The sound of rustling leaves caught his attention. Every nerve in his body screaming for him to be alert, Castiel turned his head around, trying to pinpoint the source of the faint noise. There was something moving among the bushes. Was it an animal, or a witch, or a familiar? More importantly, was it something dangerous?

“Oh, hello.”

A head with long, wavy hair appeared, followed by slender shoulders and a trim waist as the witch walked out of the bushes and towards him. 

Heart beating fast, Castiel racked his brain trying to remember if he’d ever seen her before. He knew most of the witches living in the city and in the castle, at least by sight, but when looking at her, he was coming up blank. She was as unknown to him as the vampires that they’d hosted last night. 

Taking in his stiff posture and wide eyes, she froze, lifting her hands up to show she didn’t mean any harm. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Andrea.”

“You’re a witch,” he said, flatly. Honestly he had no idea what else to say. He was still a little busy panicking. Even if this was the best case scenario where she was just a friendly passer by, she was still a witness to him planning a crime. 

“That’s right. I live just behind that tree line,” she explained gesturing behind her. “And you are?”

“Castiel.” He exhaled in relief. She wasn’t one of the city witches. Chances were she’d never seen him before and wouldn’t be able to point a finger at him if word got out as to how Dean managed to escape. He was still safe. 

“Are you out gathering plants?” she asked, eyeing the basket by Castiel’s feet.

He glanced down. He had had to improvise a bit with the ingredients since he couldn’t replicate exactly the processing that roots and herbs went through before ending up in the Apothecary, so with a cursory look, his haul didn’t scream _Iron Melting Potion._ “Yeah, I’ve been focusing my studies on herbology and properties of local plants.”

She brightened up, taking a step forward. “What a coincidence!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been experimenting with adding common foxglove in energy potions.”

Castiel quirked his head to the side. “Common foxglove has a lot of medicinal uses, but no magical properties whatsoever.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but it turns out if you manage to extract essential oil from the flowers it works better than Harralander juice. It binds with the chocolate dust better and makes the potion work for longer and with steadier energy bursts throughout the day.”

“That’s amazing,” Castiel said, making a mental note to try it on his own one day. 

“It’s still very early, but all my experiments have been very promising so far. My husband, Benny, cleared a plot of land next to our hut the other day so we can cultivate our own variety of foxglove. We’re hoping to create a variant that will present magical abilities without the need for extraction of the essential oil.”

“You could try grafting the stem with Rashovnik,” Castiel said, already overwhelmed with excitement at the possible uses. His main focus might have been Blood Marigold, but that didn’t mean the other plans left him indifferent. Quite the opposite actually.

“Because of its unlocking abilities, it might unlock the magic in the foxglove,” Andrea agreed, eyes wide. “That’s a really good idea. Why didn’t I think of that? Hey, why don’t you come over for some coffee? That way I can show you my garden _and_ the few energy potions I’ve managed to make so far.”

Castiel really wanted to go. But he also really had to get back to his room and start working on his potion. It didn’t escape his notice that the faster he was finished, the faster he’d get to Dean again to set him free. 

“I’d love to,” he said, genuine regret in his voice. “But I don’t think I have the time today. Maybe some other time.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Andrea said, some of her excitement dying down. She quickly glanced away, licking her lips. “Just, um, if you could give me some warning ahead of time? Some days of the month won’t work for my husband. He has… certain obligations that don’t allow us to accept visitors all the time.”

“Oh,” Castiel said simply. He paid more attention to how Andrea was nervous now, instead of relaxed and carefree like just seconds ago. 

Her husband had to be a werewolf. Living out in the woods instead of closer to the city made sense now. Witch-werewolf relationships were usually frowned upon, since werewolves were seen as both useless familiars and dangerous creatures, but Castiel thought all of those prejudices were rubbish. 

He gave her an encouraging smile. He really did like her, and he didn’t want her to think he was like the assholes who more than likely drove her and her husband out of the city. “I’ll send a letter,” he promised. “What’s your last name and address?”

Visibly perking up, Andrea said, “Andrea Lafitte. I took Benny’s last name after our marriage. I know it’s a bit unusual for the witch to take her familiar’s last name but it felt right for us. And just send it to the post office. It’s easier to get any mail once a week when I come to town for supplies than have a mailman travel all the way out here.”

“I will,” Castiel said, gathering his basket. “I have to go now, but I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”

“Don’t be a stranger now, Castiel,” she said, waving him away.

With a last goodbye, Castiel started on his way back to the castle. His plan was already in motion and soon he’d be able to get Dean out. He couldn’t wait. His heart kept speeding up when he thought how Dean would react once he was free again.

But first, he had a potion to make.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam watched his father pace the dark hallways of Winchester Manor. It’d been barely a day since they’d arrived back home, but everyone living or working in the house could feel the irritation practically radiating from the Alpha Vampire. Having his hands tied behind his back was not a situation his father was used to finding himself in, and Sam was sure it made him feel like a caged animal. Which made the rest of them the fools trapped in the cage with him.

Grandpa had withdrawn to his own house almost immediately after their arrival, claiming he needed to rest. Sam just thought Samuel didn’t want to deal with his son-in-law. Which was fair. If he had any other choice, Sam would rather not have stayed in the same house as John, either. As it was, Sam was doing his best to just stay out of his father’s way and let Bobby handle him. He was the only one who still could. 

“Your father is upset.”

Sam jumped a little, heart skipping a beat. He turned to find Eileen standing next to him, her brows furrowed with worry. It never ceased to surprise him how he was the vampire and she the mortal, and yet it was always Eileen that managed to sneak up on him, not the other way around. It was almost like she had a sixth sense to make up for her loss of hearing, alerting her whenever someone was walking up to her.

“Does it have anything to do with your brother not returning from the trip?” she asked, pretty brown eyes making Sam feel almost faint. He had it bad.

But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Though she was working in the Winchester Manor, Eileen and the other human servants had no idea the Winchesters were vampires. He doubted they even knew any vampires lived in their city at all.

“Dean has some things he needs to take care of. You know how business is,” he said, trying to put on his most reassuring smile for her.

Judging from the way she narrowed her eyes at him, he wasn’t very successful.

“Business,” she said slowly, like she was tasting the word.

He gulped. “Yeah, Dad wants him to start taking the reins, so he went to negotiate better prices from our suppliers.”

It was true that the Winchesters had made most of their fortune through trade, and they _were_ one of the biggest names associated with high quality silk. His grandfather Henry had been a very gifted businessman, and despite the limitations his species had to deal with, he’d managed to travel across the continent securing the finest of materials to import and then sell throughout the lower countries. A lot of the money he’d made had gone towards financing the war, but enough had been saved to secure his family’s prosperity. 

Despite inheriting a successful business, John had taken his passion for their people and had devoted his time to the council, becoming the Alpha at a rather young age, after the previous one was killed in battle. Which left Mary to deal with the job. She’d actually been quite good at it from what everyone told Sam. Since her death, managing the business had fallen into the hands of Bobby’s second wife, Ellen, until Dean was deemed old enough to take over.

So really, strictly speaking, Sam wasn’t exactly lying to Eileen. It was quite plausible Dean was away on a business trip.

Except for that little detail that he was actually a captive of a century-old enemy.

Feeling nauseous all of a sudden, Sam said, “Would you excuse me? We’re expecting our cousins for dinner, and I have to get ready.”

“Sam,” Eileen called after him.

He paused, turning to look at her. 

“You know I’m here to talk if you need to,” she said simply. 

As always, when her eyes fell to his lips to read his next words, Sam’s whole body flooded with heat. He knew that for her it was only practical, but his treacherous heart kept insisting that maybe there was another reason she was always looking at his mouth.

Heart melting in a puddle at his feet, he managed to nod. At least this time his smile was sincere. “Thank you, Eileen. I really appreciate that.”

He walked away, thoughts about everything that still needed to be done buzzing around his head. It was true that they were expecting his grandfather and cousins for dinner, but they were all heading to a Council meeting right after. John had been convinced not to declare war just yet, but that didn’t mean they were going to wait around for Dean’s trial. They had to come up with a plan to free him.

It was time. 

It had taken Castiel three days to make the potion—or rather three nights, since that was the only time he was sure no one would catch him—but it was finally ready.

And his plan was already set in motion.

He knew Inias was on guard duty down in the prison at least once a day, which also, quite luckily for Castiel, happened to end just before sunset. He also knew that Kevin had been spending extra time in the library, studying for his upcoming exam. The positions of scholars in training were very few and the competition fierce, and the pressure had finally gotten to Kevin. If he wasn’t sleeping or eating then he was buried in a book. Which worked perfectly for what Castiel had in mind.

The precious vial with the silver liquid was safely tucked inside his pocket. He waited until Inias had only about fifteen minutes left before another guard showed up to take over from him, and then Castiel set out to find Hannah. Like he’d expected, she was in the Apothecary, doing inventory. So far everything was going according to plan.

Her face brightened up when she saw him. “Cassie. What are you doing down here?”

Putting on his best concerned face, Castiel walked hurriedly towards her. “Hannah, have you seen Inias?”

She frowned at him, putting her papers aside. “He’s guarding the prisoner. Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kevin,” Castiel explained, making sure to exaggerate his nervous fidgeting. He didn’t have to try hard. He was almost anxious enough to throw up. “He was trying to push one of the books from the higher shelves in the library—you know how he finds it easier to just shift and climb up there on four legs—but he must have gotten stuck somewhere, because I can hear his squeaking, and yet he’s not coming out.”

“Oh damn,” Hannah said, bringing both hands to cover her mouth. “Why didn’t you help him?”

“I can’t tell where he is,” Castiel said, nerves making his stomach flutter. This had to work or everything he’d done was for nothing. And Dean would have to stay down there in the cold and wet cells for even longer. He shuddered just at the thought. “But maybe Inias can.”

“Of course,” she quickly nodded, removing her work robe. “I’ll go tell him. You go and see if you can get to Kevin in the meantime.”

“Hurry up,” he urged her, fighting against every instinct inside him that wanted to exhale in relief. This was only the first part of his plan. He still had a lot to do.

Castiel was hidden behind one of the hedgerows that encircled the lower terrace. It’d been a couple of minutes since he’d watched Hannah run through the door that led down to the cells. What was taking her so long? If they didn’t leave now the next guard would show up.

Had Castiel misjudged this? Had he already failed?

“Inias, wait!”

Careful to stay out of view, Castiel dared to peek at the door. Inias had already stormed out and was rushing up the stairs, Hannah right behind him. Just as he’d expected, when faced with the possibility of Kevin being hurt, however small, Inias had forgotten about everything else. The road was open for Castiel.

Making sure no one else was around, he snuck down the narrow stairs, letting the darkness work as his cover. The sun still hadn’t set outside, but he was hoping it wouldn’t be long before it did so Dean could fly away.

Inias had left a fireball by the guard’s desk, which shed light to the ball of blankets Dean was buried under. He didn’t even stir as Castiel approached, probably thinking it was Inias returning.

“Dean,” Castiel hissed, feeling his heart beating hard enough to almost jump out of his chest. “Dean, it’s me.”

“Cas?” The blankets fell away, dirty hair peeking through them, then dull green eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Oh, how tired he looked. And maybe it was just Castiel’s imagination, but his face looked hollow, too. Like he’d lost significant weight in the few days he was imprisoned. “I’d never forget about you. I’m here to get you out. I’ll take care of the lock. Do you think you can transform?”

“The lock?” Dean scooted closer, the fireball illuminating his face and the confused pout of his lips. “Cas, what are you talking about?”

“I said I’d find a way to get you out of here, Dean, and I did.”

His hands were trembling when he took the small vial out of his pocket, but he clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t have another chance. Carefully removing the lid, he tilted the vial enough to let a couple of drops fall on the lock. Breath caught in his throat, he watched as the metal started dripping like wax near a flame.

Dean took a sharp breath. He looked up at Castiel, wonder in his eyes as he finally caught up with what was going on. “Cas, you’re going to get in a lot of trouble.”

“Only if they catch us,” Castiel said immediately, continuing to let drop after drop fall on the lock. Just a couple more and the mechanism keeping the deadbolt in place would be gone. 

The lock came apart with a soft _click,_ and at the next second, Castiel was throwing the door open and rushing inside the cell. He dropped to his knees next to Dean, hands out to hug him. He froze, just inches away from the other boy. Was he allowed to do that? Dean was looking at him almost terrified. He shifted the angle to help Dean stand up instead. 

“Come on, we have to go before someone comes back.”

Crossing the bars was enough to get Dean out of the magic spell that kept him in his human form. As soon as he stepped past it, Dean shifted, his body wrapping in on itself. The blankets fell away, supported only by Castiel’s hold on them. Where Dean had been standing, a tiny, frail looking bat sat instead.

Castiel threw the blankets away and gathered the bat in his hands. “It’s almost sunset,” he said. “But I’ll put you in my pocket to hide you from the last sunlight. I’ll take you as close to the castle walls as I can and then you’re free to go.”

Dean made no noise, but there was a tiny movement of his head that looked like a nod, and that was enough for Castiel. He lowered his hand, pulling his pants pocket open to allow Dean to slip inside, and then he was off. He climbed up the stairs, his heartbeat loud enough to cover his hurried steps. He counted a couple more seconds, and he was out. The sky was a soft, rosy hue, so any moment now and it’d be safe for Dean to be let out, but Castiel didn’t wait around. He crossed the lower terrace and ducked into the first opening in the hedge maze he could find.

He pressed himself against the leafy wall, trying to regain his breath. He’d made it. Just barely, too; when he dared to take a peek around the corner, he saw the next guard arriving to take over for Inias. A couple of minutes later, the guard was running back outside, yelling himself hoarse to raise the alarm.

Castiel ran. 

He could have found his way through the garden mazes even blind, but the constant turning and changing directions still slowed him down. When he made it to the other side, just a few yards away from the treeline that hid the walls from his view, the first stars were just starting to appear above him. He reached into his pocket, careful not to crowd Dean. 

“You can come out now,” he hissed, looking around him the whole time.

Dean grabbed the edge of the pocket with his small paws, pulling himself up, until he could stretch his wings and fly. He flew in wide circles above Castiel’s head, before slowly turning and coming back. Shifting back to his human form, he landed right in front of him.

Castiel had been right. He had really lost weight. But with the way he was smiling, the exhaustion painted across his features was almost invisible.

“You did it,” he exclaimed, spreading his arms out like he wanted to prove that he really was standing out in the gardens. Then he was darting forward, arms around Castiel, and they were hugging, Dean’s body very warm and very _naked_ pressed against Castiel. “Cas, how can I ever thank you?”

Hoping Dean couldn’t feel his heart beating like a drum, Castiel awkwardly returned the embrace. “You’re welcome. But, Dean, you have to go.”

“You’re right,” Dean said, stepping back. “Dad is probably worried out of his mind. I have to get back to him.”

“Michael drove him out of town,” Castiel explained. “Your family has already made it back home by now.”

“Damn,” Dean said, wincing. “Even if I fly the whole night, every night, it’ll still take me more than a week to get back.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I wish I could help you more.”

“No, no. You’ve already done enough.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s shoulder, nodding to emphasize his words. “The rest of this journey is all up to me.”

“I guess… this is goodbye, then…” Castiel trailed off. 

Dean’s hold on his shoulder became firmer for a second before falling away. “Goodbye, Cas. I can never repay you for helping me.”

He stepped away, hunching his shoulders, getting ready to shift, but a loud noise stopped them both.

A column of light rose from the direction of the castle, spreading out like a fountain once it was high enough. The glowing veil spread above their heads faster than a hawk diving for its prey, until it was covering the whole castle grounds and then the town down the hill. It was like a giant dome had dropped from the sky. And with a sinking feeling, Castiel realized that this spell could only be one thing.

“What… What is that?” Dean uttered, mouth hanging open. 

“It’s a spell. And if I’m right it’s a barrier that will alert the casters every time a magic user or creature tries to cross it,” Castiel explained, taking in the greyish glow. He’d been very young the last time he’d seen the spell put into use, and back then it’d been a defense during the war. This time, though, it trapped Dean like a butterfly inside a jar.

“So I can’t…” Dean nodded towards the direction of the city.

“No, I don’t think you can,” Castiel said. “Michael’s men would know immediately not only that someone crossed the barrier but which part of it you used. They’re probably already sending men to guard the perimeter, and everyone that wishes to come or go will have to be checked before crossing.”

Dean licked his lips. “Shit. And there’s no way around that?”

Castiel shook his head. “The only way I could think is if I sneaked you out. If you’re hiding in my clothes the barrier won’t recognize that two magical creatures are passing at the same time, but…”

“But I doubt your brother will be happy to let you out of his sight,” Dean finished for him.

“Exactly. He’s been very paranoid since the attack, and just getting the guards to leave me alone has taken a lot of convincing. I don’t think I’d be allowed out of the castle grounds, let alone out of the town,” Castiel said.

Voices rose in the distance, followed by the clatter of guards’ armor as the sound of footsteps became louder and louder.

Dean and Castiel dove back into the maze, hiding in the shadows. A dozen or so guards, Anna and Charlie among them, were running towards the city. This was bad. This was really bad.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice. I’ll have to hide while I try to figure a way out of here,” Dean said, dropping to sit on his heels, back against the hedgerow.

“I’ll hide you,” Castiel said immediately, checking outside to make sure there weren’t any more guards coming their way.

“What? Cas, no, you’ve already done enough,” Dean said. “I’ll just keep to my bat form and stay hidden among the trees. It should be fine.”

“It’s dangerous. It’s better if you stay with me,” Castiel insisted. “Michael will have people patrolling the gardens all day, but no one will think to look in my room.”

“But—”

“No buts, Dean. It’s the best plan. And that way I can get you food, too.”

Dean quirked his head to the side, his expression morphing into something that clearly said _have you lost your mind?_

“Cas, I don’t think you getting a sudden craving for endless blood curd will look as innocent as you think it will.”

“I won’t ask for blood curd,” Castiel said, coming to crouch in front of Dean. “There’s a plant, it’s called a Blood Marigold. It’s fruit produces a juice that can be used to feed vampires without blood.”

Dean’s brows rose in fascination. “The stories,” he breathed out. “The stories about vampires living without feeding on other living creatures were true.”

“Yes, they were,” Castiel said. “And I have access to them. I study them. I can get you fruit to eat.”

Dean’s expression wavered for a moment, his confidence in hiding alone wavering. “Would you do that?”

“Of course I would,” Castiel said, reaching to take Dean’s hand in his own and giving it a small squeeze. “I said I would help, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Dean swallowed, nodding. Something softened behind his eyes. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

Pushing himself up, Castiel peeked out in the garden. “There’s no one. I’ll hide you in my clothes if that’s alright with you, and then I’ll take you back to the castle.”

“Shit, Cas, it’s not like I can do anything else,” Dean said, but the next second he’d shifted, and was flying towards him. He landed softly on Castiel’s shoulder, reaching with his paws to grab onto Castiel’s collar for support.

Castiel offered his palm for him. “Here.”

When Dean easily jumped on his hand, Castiel brought him back to his pocket, letting him slide inside. Bright green eyes looked up at him, filled with trust. 

Castiel nodded. He was determined to do his best to hide Dean.

Castiel exited the maze as close to the front door as he could, and still a light was immediately shoved in his face.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

The edge of a spear glimmered right underneath his nose, and Castiel lifted his hands up in surrender on instinct. Everything inside him was screaming for him to turn around and bolt. If they searched him there was no way they wouldn’t find Dean.

“That’s the High Priest’s brother,” a familiar voice called, before the spear was pushed away from him.

Castiel blinked, white spots dancing in his vision even after the fireball had been removed from his immediate line of sight. 

“Cassie, what are you doing out here?” Dorothy threw a hand around his shoulders, guiding him away from the other soldiers. “You shouldn’t be outside.”

Cas rubbed at his eyes, trying to buy time and think. His answer would have to be very careful. In the end he decided that acting like he had no idea what was going on was the safest bet. “I was just taking a walk. Since when is that forbidden?”

“Have you not heard? The prisoner has escaped,” Dorothy said, waving away the guards turning towards them.

Castiel exhaled with relief. Being with Michael’s familiar meant he’d breeze past all the soldiers without them trying to search him. Who would dare question Dorothy? And why would Dorothy question him? 

“When did that happen?” he asked, hand falling to feel for the soft bulge in his pocket that squirmed under the barely there touch.

Dorothy led him up the stairs and towards the door. “Not long ago. Michael is questioning the guard that was on duty when the vampire escaped. I still can’t believe that he’d be foolish enough to leave his post. Michael will have to come up with a proper punishment for him.”

Castiel’s heart sank to his feet.

_Inias._

This was all his fault. Inias was going to take the fall for Castiel’s plan, and he didn’t even know it was his friend that had betrayed him. 

Dorothy stopped, squeezing Castiel’s shoulder and giving him a soft smile. “Stay inside, and stay safe now. Okay, little one?”

“What about you, Dorothy?” Castiel asked, voice trembling. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry about me now. That vampire is no match for a fae, I can assure you. We’ll find him and throw him back behind bars, where he belongs,” she said, her words doing the exact opposite of making him feel reassured. “Now get back inside. It’ll be easier for everyone if we don’t have to worry about you. I’ll send Anna to keep you company.”

“No,” Castiel said, immediately. “I— I just don’t feel like staying up late tonight. I’d rather read a book and get some sleep. Wouldn’t it be easier to have a guard posted under my window?”

Dorothy searched his face for a second, making Castiel’s stomach clech with nerves. Then she nodded. “Alright. I’ll have one of the familiars stay under your window for tonight,” she promised and finally released him.

He thanked her in a small voice, before hurrying inside and up to his room. He passed by servants gathered in small groups whispering to each other, familiars running around in their animal forms. Once again, the castle was in an uproar, only this time it was Castiel that had caused it.

Closing the door behind him, Castiel collapsed against it, letting himself slide down to the floor. 

“I can’t believe we made it,” he said, patting his pocket.

A screech came in reply, before Dean started wiggling around, trying to free himself from the confines of the pocket. His little body twisted, tickling Castiel through the fabric.

“Here let me help you.” Giggling, Castiel used two careful fingers to keep the pocket open without touching Dean. 

Dean was barely out of the pocket before he was shifting, and then he was sitting next to Cas on the floor, their arms pressing together from shoulder to elbow. “Shit, that was close.”

“I know. We’re lucky Dorothy found us before the guard asked me to empty my pockets,” Castiel said. The word guard reminded him of Inias, of course, and his heart squeezed. His friend was in trouble because of Castiel’s lie. How long before Inias came asking for an explanation? Or before Hannah did? And worst of all, what would Michael do to Inias?

“So what now?” Dean asked.

What now indeed. Castiel wanted to find his brother and talk, but he also needed to take care of Dean. He was still naked, and probably very cold by now. Not to mention hungry.

“Hey, Dean? Did you have anything to eat today?”

“One of the guards brought me beef liver earlier in the day,” Dean said, making a disgusted face. “I’d rather it wasn’t completely raw but at least it was something with actual blood this time.”

Castiel nodded, pushing himself up. Liver was good, but nowhere near as good as real blood. If they’d been feeding Dean meat the whole time he was a prisoner, it was no wonder he lost so much weight. Why they didn’t just go for the Blood Marigold fruit was beyond him, but maybe Michael had wanted to keep that a secret from the vampires. If Dean didn’t know the fruit were real, maybe the other vampires didn’t either. Which also explained why it wasn’t served during dinner either. Michael had been one of the first witches to push for this treaty, but he wasn’t foolish enough to show his hand too early.

Extending his hand towards Dean to help him up, he said, “Alright. I’ll find you clothes, then I’ll go and see if I can find any Blood Marigold for tonight.”

Dean allowed himself to be pulled, but his hold on Castiel’s hand lingered. “Cas, it’s okay. I’m not hungry. Let’s just stay out of trouble, at least for tonight.”

“Nonsense,” Castiel said immediately, his pulse speeding up at their proximity. “They haven’t been feeding you well enough. You need food.”

And being worried about Inias was also the perfect excuse to leave his room again. Of course he really was planning on visiting his friend, and hopefully Inias wouldn’t be too mad at him, but it was also a nice alibi if they caught him sneaking around. 

First, however, he had to take care of Dean.

Reluctantly releasing his hold on the Bat Boy, he stepped away, walking to his closet. He rummaged through it until he found a pair of sleeping pants that were slightly too big on him, but would probably fit Dean just fine. He grabbed a soft top as well and threw both in Dean’s direction. “Here, put this on.”

Dean ran a finger over the clothes, feeling the soft material on his skin. How long had it been since he had clothes to wear? How long had it been since he’d seen the sky? He felt tears rising up, but he fought them back, determined not to show weakness in front of Cas. The young witch had put a lot on the line to help him; it wouldn’t do for Dean to turn into a cry baby, no matter how grateful he was. He had to keep his head on straight and help Cas find a way to smuggle him out of the new magical borders the witches put up.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked in a soft voice.

Realizing he’d been staring down at the clothes in his hands like an idiot, Dean forced himself to grin. “Yeah, sorry. It just feels weird to be given clothes after all this time.”

Something like regret crossed over Cas’ expression, and he wrapped his arms over his stomach like he was about to be sick. “I’m so sorry. You had to stay in that cell for so long. I wish I could have helped you sooner.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, giving him an easygoing shrug. Like he hadn’t wondered every night if the witches would decide to just execute him and be done with him the next day. Dean had spent a lot of time down there waiting to die. “What’s done is done. What we need to do now is find a way to get me out of here, so I can go back home and figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Do you have any idea who it could have been? The vampire that attacked my brother, I mean.”

Dean shook his head. He still couldn’t believe that a vampire had tried to kill Michael. He was sure that the witches wouldn’t have made the whole story up, though. Especially since they were going through a lot of trouble to protect their High Priest and his family. The threat must have been real. But for the life of him, Dean couldn't guess who among the vampires present would oppose the treaty so strongly that they'd try to murder the High Priest. All the vampires that made the journey had been handpicked by his father and his grandfather. Just the thought that one of them was really a traitor was enough to make Dean shiver. Why would anyone want to keep the two species at war, and at a time when the humans were becoming an even bigger threat to all of them?

Thank God Castiel had come to his rescue. Not only he looked like an angel, but clearly he also was one.

He raised the clothes in his hands, raising an eyebrow in Cas’ direction. “I guess there’s not much point in asking you to turn around so I can change, huh?”

Cas rolled his eyes, but was clearly biting back a smile. “I don’t think there’s any modesty left in you for me to protect.”

“You know, usually I don’t reveal all of my secrets on the first date,” Dean joked, leaving the shirt on the bed and unfolding the pair of pants.

“I’m pretty sure this is our third date,” Cas pointed out, crossing the room to look outside his window. Despite what he’d said, he made an obvious effort to give Dean some privacy while he changed.

Dean’s heart kicked inside his chest. This was so not the time to flirt, but it was hard when Cas was flirting right back. Besides, they were going to be staying in the same room for the foreseeable future. Dean had to do something to break the ice.

There were three curt knocks on the door.

Dean froze, turning panicked eyes to Cas, who looked equally as terrified. Dean shook his head, trying to convey something along the lines of ‘ _what the hell do I do?_ ’ to which Cas opened his hands at a loss for words.

“Cassie?” 

Even if Dean didn’t recognize that voice, Cas’ increasing desperation to find somewhere for him to hide would have definitely clued him in to who was outside. 

Michael knocked on the door once more. “Cassie, are you in there?”

Letting his instincts take over, Dean dropped the pants that he hadn’t had the time to pull on and shifted, flying straight inside the closet. Thankfully, Cas was fast enough to throw the door closed behind him in a matter of seconds, before answering his brother.

“Yeah, I’m here. Come in.”

Dean heard the door open and he huddled further back in the closet, away from the light shining through the crack between the doors. He flapped his wings once silently and grabbed the rod with his legs, letting himself hang upside down among Cas’ shirts. At least that way he wouldn’t be the first thing someone saw if they tried to open the doors.

“Dorothy told me you’re aware of our prisoner escaping.” Michael’s voice was still distant, probably closer to the door than the closet, but Dean held his breath all the same. 

“She did,” Cas said. “I saw her just a few minutes ago. I also saw the magical barrier.”

“I don’t know how long it’s been since the bat escaped, but I’m confident he hasn't reached as far as the town. He’s probably trapped inside the barrier, and it’s only a matter of time before we catch him again,” Michael answered.

“Our guards are well trained.”

Even without being able to see him, Dean could tell Cas was nervous just from his tone. If they were lucky, his brother would think it was because Castiel thought they were all in danger now that a killer was on the loose, instead of actually hiding said killer—which Dean still couldn’t believe he was being accused of being—in his room. 

“Clearly they aren’t. Not all of them,” Michael said, voice cold enough to make a chill go down Dean’s spine. 

“I heard it was Inias that was on duty,” Cas said. “You know Inias is an excellent guard, but his familiar was in danger, what was he supposed to do?”

“Not abandon his post. How much trouble can a mouse get into in a library?”

“Are you going to punish him?”

“We’re removing him from the Royal Guard. Dorothy and I have agreed that it’s for the best, and it will be a good example for the rest of our soldiers to stay in line.” Michael said.

Cas took a sharp breath. “Michael, no.”

Dean heard steps, Castiel’s most likely, as he walked to his brother to plead the guard’s case. But he was too busy trying to keep his balance to keep track of their conversation beyond the rise and fall of the two voices. The closet rod was perfectly smooth and polished, enough so that he had trouble keeping his hold firm around it. He could feel his toes slipping away one by one. 

“I can’t do anything, ” Michael was saying, even though Dean was wishing with all his heart that the High Priest would remember he had somewhere else to be and would leave sooner rather than later. “He abandoned his post. I have to punish him somehow.”

“Then make him clean the stables,” Cas argued back. “Inias’ position in the Royal Guard means everything to him.”

His feet were starting to get sweaty, his claws digging into the wood but doing little to actually help him.

“I'm not here to talk about your friend, Cassie,” Michael said, sighing. 

“Right, you're here to tell me to keep my head low and stay out of harm’s way,” Castiel said, his statement followed by a thud, like he’d just stomped his foot. “Dorothy beat you to it, I’m afraid.”

“And I’m afraid I have more news that’ll upset you. We are putting the Blood Marigolds under strict surveillance. No one goes in or out. Including you.”

“What?” Cas exclaimed, raising his voice.

Dean’s feet slipped off the rod and he flapped his wings in an undignified effort to keep his balance, but twisted as he was among the shirts, he only managed to get tangled and crash to the bottom of the closet.

He held his breath, heart ready to beat out of his chest. He was sure Michael must have heard him and would come open the door any moment now.

“Did you hear that?” Michael asked, his voice becoming louder as he stepped deeper into the room.

“Honestly, I think I made something explode with how upset you just made me,” Cas said, his hurried footsteps catching up to where Dean thought Michael might have been standing. “You can’t forbid me from doing my work. This is my research we’re talking about, Michael.”

“And you’ll continue it as soon as we have the prisoner back in our cells,” Michael assured him, and to Dean’s greatest joy it didn’t sound like he was moving closer to the closet again. “But until then, those Marigolds for him are like honey for a bee, and anyone near them is in higher danger of coming across the vampire.”

There was a silent moment, filled only with Dean’s tiny exhale of relief. It didn’t seem like Michael would come looking for him after all.

“I’m only doing this to protect you, Cassie, you know that,” Michael said then. 

Castiel’s answer was too soft to hear. A couple of seconds later, Dean heard the door opening and closing. Then Cas was throwing the closet door open, hair wild and eyes wide as he searched inside there for Dean.

Untangling himself from the pile of clothes, Dean crawled out of the closet and shifted again. “Is he gone?”

“He won’t be back for tonight,” Cas said, leaning his forehead against the closet. “That was a close one.”

“You’re telling me? I almost had a heart attack.” 

And really, Dean’s heart was still beating too fast. Bringing a hand over his chest, he willed himself to calm down. He was still safe, and more importantly, he was still free. Well, more or less.

“What were you doing in there?” Cas asked, turning to look at him.

“I fell,” Dean said, turning away to hide his burning face. He busied himself with pulling on the clothes, not willing to let Cas see how embarrassed he was. “And really, you made something explode because you were upset? I’ve never heard anything more suspicious in my life. You suck at acting.”

“You suck at keeping quiet,” Cas shot back with a huff.

When Dean gazed at him, he had this adorable pout on his face. Dean couldn’t resist. “Actually, I’m very quiet when I suck. It’s the other person that makes all the noise.”

Cas fixed him with a strong glare, but there was the beginning of a blush coloring his cheeks. For good measure, Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” Cas complained, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed and throwing it at Dean. Then Cas grabbed some clothes that were left on the chair by his desk, and he walked to the second, smaller door in the room. “I’m going to get ready for bed. You make yourself comfortable.”

“Where am I sleeping?” Dean asked, surveying the room. There was only one bed, though Dean figured he could always transform back to a bat and sleep on a pillow on the floor.

Castiel blinked. His eyes moved around the room like he hadn’t thought of that until now. Finally he shrugged. “The bed is big enough for both of us. Just keep your teeth on your side.”

And with that he opened the door and retreated to the adjacent bathroom.

Dean stared at the door, dumbfounded. 

Then he grinned, like the idiot he was. Well, when a dreamy angel was ordering him into his bed, it was rude not to comply. Even if it was just to sleep.

Just a few minutes later, with the lights off and curtains tightly closed to make sure no stray ray of light would make it through come morning, Dean allowed himself to drift off, Cas’ quiet breathing lulling him to the most peaceful sleep he’d had in days. 

Maybe this magical barrier keeping him there wasn’t so bad after all, if he was going to be spending so much time with Cas.


	4. Chapter 4

Life went on even without Dean. Or at least Sam’s human life did. He still got into one of their carriages in the mornings to go to the university, still stayed away from the sun as much as possible, and still attended his classes.

If it hadn’t been for his father’s moodiness, Bobby’s panicked correspondence with all their informers, and Samuel’s endless visits, he’d have thought that nothing was out of the ordinary. Their servants had been told the same story he’d said to Eileen. For every human in the city, Dean was just away on a business trip.

And so Sam had to go on living, carrying the weight of his worry silently when under the watch of humans. 

At least his classes were somewhat of a distraction.

The carriage stopped right inside the university’s stables, and he stepped down and entered the grand building without having to spend a single moment under the sun. Navigating the halls with the large windows was trickier, but Sam usually avoided them, preferring the darker passageways and narrow staircases. He was an expert at keeping to the shadows by now, and he slid inside the lecture hall and towards the side away from the sunlight with practiced ease.

He was early, barely half the seats taken up by the other students. In the seat next to the one Sam usually claimed, Mick Davies was already bent over his papers, scrawling away in letters too hurried for anyone but him to understand.

“Good morning,” said Sam, leaving his briefcase on the floor. 

Mick glanced up, smiling when he saw Sam. “Good morning to you, too. You look tired. Rough night?”

Sam winced. “Studying,” he lied, busying himself with retrieving what he’d need for the lesson. “You look tired, too, though. Getting ready for midterms already?”

Setting his pen to the side to stretch his arms and roll his wrists, Mick turned in his seat to face him. “I wish. You know me, it’s never too early for studying, but unfortunately, I had a meeting last night.”

“Oh, another Men of Letters meeting?” Sam asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. 

None of the humans knew vampires were living among them, so more often than not they felt at ease speaking about their supposedly _secret_ affairs quite openly within the town walls. It was a fact the vampires took advantage of a lot, and was what had first alerted them to the existence of rogue vampires hunting in the city. It was also how they’d found out the humans were planning on attacking the witches, thinking it was them sheltering the vampires. 

“It seems we have one every night these days,” Mick sighed. “Tell you what, my friend, you’re lucky you’re not involved in this whole mess.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, setting up his ink bottle by the edge of his desk. “Why don’t you quit?” 

“That’s not so easy when you’re a legacy.” Mich chuckled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs at the knee. “At least I only have to take care of the book-keeping. Imagine if I had to actually get out there and look for creatures to hunt.”

Sam joined him in laughing, though his was more forced than his friend’s. “I thought that those hunting trips rarely if ever yielded any results,” Sam said, clearing his throat.

“You know I thought it was an outdated constitution as well, but with the victims we’ve found recently, I’m starting to change my mind.”

Professor Hess walked in just then, her robe flowing behind her as she marched towards her podium. Whatever students were still loitering outside rushed in behind her, quickly filling every empty seat left in the room, and some of them even stood up in the far back. Her lectures always had the highest attendance, even though History usually wasn’t a popular subject. It was Professor Hess and her commanding personality that attracted the students more than the actual syllabus.

“Well, I feel safer knowing someone is looking after us all,” Sam told Mick, quickly ending their conversation and turning his attention to the lesson that was about to start.

Pressing her glasses higher on her nose with her fingers, Professor Hess gazed at her audience. “Today we are going to be talking about the first part of the Vampire-Witch War,” she said, her voice carrying clear even to the back of the classroom. “Who can tell me how it started?”

Several hands were raised, and the professor pointed to a girl in the back.

“We assume some of the vampires led an uprising against the witches when being familiars wasn’t enough for them anymore.”

“Correct. Why be servants when they can be the hunters they were born to be? Free to roam, hunt and eat whatever and whoever they want?” the professor said.

Sam had to bite his tongue. The misconceptions humans had about magical species were so huge they might as well be taking stories straight out of their heads instead of trying to record historical events. In a lot of cases, a human’s hyperactive fantasy had more to do with the passages written in his history books than actual facts, he was sure.

Of course standing up and yelling that vampires hadn’t been servants, not even really familiars, but slaves bound with magic and iron to do their master’s bidding at all times, wouldn’t yield any results. Maybe a few curious looks, a couple of snide remarks, and if he was unlucky a gigantic target on his back.

Mick was entranced though, eyes turning a little glassy as he stared at their professor listing all the ways the Vampire-Witch War had impacted human economy and growth. His thirst for knowledge was his greatest quality, Sam thought, but also his greatest failure, in that his misplaced trust usually meant all the information he so painstakingly noted was wrong.

History wasn’t a subject Sam enjoyed, unlike Mick, but it was one mandatory to take. Sighing, he settled back in his seat, tuning out all the absurd questions and answers being thrown around him. 

Sam was barely through the door of Winchester Manor when he realized something was wrong. 

Their inner yard was silent, as usual, but his sensitive ears were catching several conversations around the house. Voices both familiar and new, loud and hushed, came from every possible direction. It felt like the whole vampire society was squeezed in his house. Climbing up the stairs to the main room on the second floor confirmed his suspicions.

Several pairs of eyes turned to look at him, some with interest, some with pity, but the majority of them with worry. 

Sam felt his stomach drop to his feet. If so many vampires were here, and not in the Council House, then something important must have happened. Or something terrible.

“Sam! There you are.” His cousin, Christian, came pushing through the crowd, still in his sleeping clothes. It seemed like a lot of people had dropped whatever they’d been doing to come here. It was weird how Sam was the last to realize something was wrong, but maybe sending someone to fetch him from his classes would have looked suspicious.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, rushing to meet him in the middle.

“A letter from the witches arrived just an hour ago,” said Christian, breathless.

Sam gazed around them, trying to make out what everyone was talking about, but nothing stood out to him. “This big of a gathering for a letter? And if it’s so important why not meet at the Council House?”

Christian grimaced, looking at the vampires gathered in small groups and talking in hushed tones. “I imagine it will be taken to the Council House, but John is still locked in his office with Singer and Grandad. There’s a report from our informers. People just rushed here as soon as they heard the news.”

The higher ranking vampire families lived in houses adjacent to the Vladsari Corridor, a passageway that ran through the entire city, connecting the Winchester Manor to the Vampire Council House across the river, as well as many vampires’ houses on the way. It began mostly as small bridges connecting neighboring houses, but John’s father, Henry, among his other great doings, had connected them all together, expanding them to reach buildings that the vampires would need to get to without going out in the sun, like the market and the Council House. It took him barely five months, and a lot of lying to contractors, but being the richest merchant in the city had its merits. When he was finished, he had created the perfect road for almost every vampire in the city to use during the day.

Sam was sure a lot of the vampires had used the Vladsari Corridor to get to his house while the sun was still high in the sky, but there were plenty more that lived in the outskirts of town, having moved there after the population had outgrown the city center. For so many of those vampires to be there as well... The message their informers had sent must have been very important indeed.

Sam raised an eyebrow, walking towards his father’s office. “What does the message say?”

“The witches have created a magical barrier around their castle and town. It’s like they are preparing for war,” Christian said, falling into step with him.

The closer they were to the office, the more Sam realized that among the voices he heard was John’s, loud and enraged, and clearly arguing with someone. He pushed the door open and entered the room without knocking or waiting for someone to call him inside. Christian didn’t follow him, preferring to stay out of the storm’s eye.

Three heads turned towards him, each with a similar expression of outrage painted across their features.

Samuel, of course, was the first one to decide that their argument was more important than Sam’s arrival. “It’s absurd, John. We’re sitting here with our hands tied and meanwhile they’re preparing for war. They’re fortifying their territory. The reports say their Royal Guard has also been more active than normal.”

“For all we know they’re preparing because they think _we_ are going to be the first to attack,” Bobby shot back, slamming his fist on the desk. “If we do attack we’ll be doing no one a favor. They’ll just execute Dean and kill as many of us as they can.”

“Of course they will, because we’re giving them all the time in the world to get ready. And what are we doing? Spying on them? Negotiating with them? Nothing, that’s what we’re doing.”

“We’re already on edge with the human hunters growing in numbers, do you really think we need another war with the witches right now?” Bobby asked, a vein pulsing on his flushed forehead.

“Humans are weak,” Samuel said, his nose curling with disgust. “The witches are our true enemy. John, you know that. Mary didn’t die so you’d grow soft and sign a treaty with her murderers.”

All that time, John was sitting at his desk, chin resting on his hands, surprisingly quiet. When he spoke, his voice much lower than the other men in the room, everyone turned their attention to him. “The letter the witches sent said they are postponing Dean’s trial.”

“But they hadn’t even set a date to begin with,” Sam said.

“Exactly. So what would have prompted them to postpone a date they hadn’t even set, when that would only give us more time to raise our army against them?” John asked, eyes lingering to every one of them before moving to the next. 

Samuel took a calming breath, smoothing the fabric of his expensive coat. “Pay attention, John. They’re already ahead in the game of preparing for war. As far as we know, their army is ready and waiting for us. I can guarantee you that murder attempt was nothing more than a lie, too. They just needed an excuse to imprison one of us. The fact that it was your own eldest son can’t have been pure chance.”

“But how did they know that Dean would leave the house that night?” Bobby argued back.

Sam bit his tongue, mind immediately going to how enamoured Dean had been with the High Priest’s brother. It wasn’t exactly by chance that Dean was out that night, but it couldn’t have been planned beforehand either. Even with a love potion, they couldn’t have known that Dean would be so reckless as to visit their castle in secret.

“There are a lot of holes in this story. Why would the witches want to start a war with us in the first place? They have nothing to gain, not right now at least,” John continued. “But it doesn’t matter now. What matters is what our reports are saying about the magical barrier. A magical barrier that went up minutes after sunset.”

“Of course it did, what other time would vampires use to attack?” Samuel asked. “They were just preparing for an attack they thought their letter would provoke.”

“Their letter arrived far later than our reports for the barrier, and it’s hastily written. It was probably written last minute, without enough time to think it through,” John said.

“What do you think happened that would force their hand like that, then?” Sam asked.

“I have another theory,” John admitted, leaning back against his chair, brows furrowed. “Their barrier is not there to keep us out. It’s there to keep someone else in. Think about it, their Royal Guard is suddenly doing more rounds and widening their area of activity. It’s like they’re searching for someone.”

“What are you saying?” Sam asked, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. 

“I think your brother managed to escape,” John said, matter-of-factly. “And they think we somehow helped him. Their letter is damage control. They want us to believe they still have him and that our plan failed.”

“But we didn’t help him,” Bobby said, shaking his head. 

“What, you think the boy escaped on his own?” Samuel asked, crossing his arms. “Preposterous. Someone stupid enough to give the enemy reason to arrest them couldn't come up with an escape plan.”

“Dean is very smart, actually,” Sam cut in, face burning with anger at what his grandad had just said. “If anyone can escape from that prison, it’s Dean.”

Samuel huffed, laughing straight in his grandson’s face, and that only served to anger Sam further. Samuel knew nothing about Dean, and he’d never bothered to get to know him better than a passing commentary on his hobbies on holidays. What right did he have to speak of Dean?

“We don’t know that, John,” Bobby said. “And even if we ask for proof that Dean is well, they won’t be able to send anything back whether he’s escaped or he’s dead.”

“We don’t go to war,” John insisted. “Not until we know for sure. I want more informers sent to watch the castle, even from afar. Are there any inside the barrier?”

“There are two that haven’t made contact with us again,” Bobby confirmed.

“They’re probably trapped in the town. See if the others can manage to send a message. Their work is more important than ever now.”

“Yes sir,” Bobby said, nodding. 

“We’re wasting time,” Samuel complained. “If I were the Alpha—”

“But you’re not, Samuel,” John said, standing up. He walked around his desk, coming to stand by Sam and squeezing his shoulders. “I am the Alpha, and I say we wait.”

The greenhouses where Castiel worked were further down the hill, close to the woods, but he could see them when standing at the lower terrace and looking out at the estate. Witches and familiars were busy putting up spells and protective charms around the Blood Marigolds. From afar, they looked like bees in their hive.

Something ugly twisted in Castiel’s gut. The greenhouses were too well guarded. There was no way he was getting in and out without anyone knowing, and more importantly, there was no way he was going to manage to steal any Blood Marigolds for Dean. He’d have to find some other way to provide food for him.

But what? It wasn’t like he could just stroll into their kitchen and ask for raw meat to take back to his room. If there was one way to point a finger at himself without a shred of doubt, it would be that.

“You’re thinking too hard, little brother.”

Castiel didn’t flinch. He took a deep breath as Michael came to stand next to him, mirroring his stance with his hands behind his back. Side to side, they gazed out towards their estate.

“Are you worried?” Michael asked.

Yes, but he wasn’t going to tell Michael that. “About what?”

“About your research.”

Oh.

Well, he hadn’t thought about that because he had more pressing matters to worry about, but it made sense that Michael would pick that topic to bring up. 

Glancing back towards his window, Castiel willed his shoulders to relax. The curtains were still drawn, proof that Dean was safe in his room. One of the servants would show up eventually to clean, but they’d found a good spot above his closet where Dean could hide in his bat form. None of the servants had any business looking up there.

“Cassie.”

Castiel snapped his head back forward. “Sorry. Got a little lost in my thoughts there.”

“Well are you? Worried?” Michael asked again, tilting his head to the side to consider him.

“A little,” Castiel admitted. But not for the reason Michael thought he was. “When do you think we’ll relax our security measures?”

“When we’ve caught our prisoner again.” No room for negotiation there.

Castiel would have no luck trying to persuade Michael otherwise, and pushing the matter would only make Michael suspicious. Still. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

“The Familiar Meetings are starting again. You should attend those.” No room for negotiations there either. Michael had clear expectations of him, and finding a familiar was top priority.

It didn’t matter that Castiel wasn’t particularly fond of the idea. 

“Everything else has been postponed _but_ the Familiar Meetings?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“They are important,” was all Michael said.

Somehow Castiel doubted they’d be as important if he hadn’t been one of the witches attending them that year. Being the High Priest’s brother surely had its merits, but it also had its disadvantages. Not the least of which was his brother’s overprotectiveness getting the whole castle involved in his personal business.

He still cringed thinking about the time Michael and Dorothy, dressed up in ridiculous clothes with colorful bandanas over their heads, tried to be _inconspicuous_ while spying Castiel on his first date ever.

It hadn’t been subtle. It hadn’t been subtle at all. 

The date hadn’t gone so well either, but Cas doubted it was his brother’s fault. Not _mostly_ his fault, at least.

“When are they starting?” he asked.

Michael visibly perked up at Castiel’s interest. “Tomorrow is the first one. I know your friend Hannah is attending this year, too. You two could go together and have some fun.”

“I’m sure we will,” Castiel murmured. He wasn’t looking forward to sitting through all the awkward small talk with familiars, but most of all he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Hannah. 

After the news of Inias losing his job, he’d tried seeing his friend, but Kevin had shrugged and said Inias wasn’t feeling up to it. Hannah, on the other hand, was a wild card. She hadn’t confronted him yet about the whole mess of Dean escaping, but Castiel was nervous. He’d chosen her specifically because she’d be the one least likely to immediately rat him out, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to come to him with questions. 

Michael wasn’t planning to let him sit the Meetings out, though. Castiel had no choice but to suck it up and go, hoping Hannah would be too busy to come to him with any suspicions.

A servant appearing to call Michael back to the castle saved Castiel from having to discuss the Meetings any further. He really was not in the mood to talk about what kind of shifter he might want to meet, or whether or not they would mind moving into the castle like Dorothy had done.

With a last regretful glance towards the greenhouses, Castiel returned back to his room. He would come up with something. Maybe there was something else Dean could eat and it’d be less suspicious of Castiel to ask for it.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness when he returned to his room. He stood at his door, blinking, but nothing moved inside the room. Dean was nowhere to be seen.

Stepping further inside the room, he finally spotted a black ball on his bed that was moving. Breathing.

Sighing, he closed the door carefully. He padded across the room, taking in the small bat sleeping curled up on his pillow.

It’d be easy for any of the servants to come in without knocking and catch him, and then Dean would go back to jail and Castiel would have a lot of explaining to do. 

But…

He had to admit, Dean looked so cute with his little, hairy snout and pointy ears, small paws gathered close to his body. And he was probably exhausted after all the time he’d spent in jail.

It was hard for Castiel to stay mad at him. 

Shaking his head, more amused than angry, he used a finger to gently shake him awake.

Dean jerked away, baring his fangs while he fumbled to get a good grip on the pillow to roll on his good side again. Then his eyes landed on Castiel, and realizing it wasn’t an enemy, he transformed back to his human form.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said, stretching his arms out.

“Your naked butt is on my pillow,” Castiel replied flatly. He kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. Maybe Dean was used to his nudity, but Castiel wasn’t—at least not when his whole body wasn’t filled with adrenaline like last night.

“You can have my pillow,” Dean said but obediently stood up, grabbing the clothes carefully folded on the end of the bed and pulling them on. “You can look now.”

Castiel lowered his eyes again, humming in approval at Dean’s dressed form. He didn’t know how good Dean’s eyesight was in the darkness, but he hoped it wasn’t good enough to catch the blush burning on his cheeks. “I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”

Dean’s eyes widened, voice coming out a little higher than normal. “Did they find out?” 

“No, no, don’t worry,” Castiel was quick to reassure him, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder on instinct. “But Michael is keeping the Blood Marigolds under strict watch. I don’t think I can steal any.”

He felt Dean’s shoulders dropping under his hand, but he could make out a small smile on his face.

“It sucks, but it’s not the end of the world,” Dean said. “I can just hunt a frog or something tonight.”

“Won’t that be too dangerous?” Castiel asked, fingers itching to stay exactly where they were.

“I’ll stay close to your room. There’s a pond in the garden under your window, isn’t there? I saw it when I flew up here from the town.” He drew away, walking to the window to take a peek outside, despite the burn of the sun against his exposed skin. 

Castiel pushed his hands in his pocket to keep them from reaching out again. “There is,” Castiel said, shifting his weight. “And Michael has moved all the guards to walk the perimeter of the estate and the town, so there’s no one available to stay put under my window tonight. Dorothy told me earlier, during breakfast. She also said to keep my window locked.”

“Kind of ironic. I mean, the person they’re looking for is right here.” Dean grinned, a thin red line of irritated skin going down his face where the sunlight had hit him. He didn’t seem bothered by it though. “But as long as they’re busy looking for me along their magical barrier, I’m free to wander around the castle at night.”

“We could do that,” Castiel replied, mulling that thought over. It was true that Dorothy and Michael were concentrating most of the guards near the magical barrier, thinking that Dean would try to pass through while no one was around to catch him, leaving only a handful to guard the actual castle. And the majority of them were stationed near Michael’s rooms. The garden certainly was a good option for Dean to get out and try hunting, and if he was successful, Castiel wouldn’t need to order any suspicious foods from the kitchen.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice,” Dean pointed out. Not that Castiel needed any more convincing. It was dangerous, but it was a risk they had to take. 

“Alright then. Tonight we’ll go hunting. By the way, didn’t any servants come around to clean?” he asked, eyeing the pillow Dean had been sleeping on when he’d come back.

Dean nodded. “Oh, yeah. I think she was a shifter. Came in a few minutes after you left for breakfast, but I just hid in the corner you showed me above your closet and she didn’t even come near me. If she does the same thing every day it should be easy to keep away from her.”

“That’s good to know,” Castiel said, exhaling in relief. Another obstacle they’d beaten. “Now that the greenhouses are closed and most of my friends are either doing the rounds with the Royal Guard or are otherwise occupied—” and he was careful not to mention Inias’ name here, because that was his own fault and there was no reason to make Dean feel guilty about it, “—no one will question me spending more time in here, which should keep a lot of servants away during the rest of the day.”

“Oh, don’t you have other, I don’t know, royal duties, or whatever it is the High Priest’s brother does?” Dean asked, waving his hand around vaguely.

“I have the Familiar Meetings,” Castiel admitted, though he didn’t want to think about them. “Other than that I have my research with the Blood Marigolds, some meetings with mage guilds down in the town when Dorothy and Michel can’t attend them, and I also make sure to look respectable standing behind my brother.”

Dean walked back to the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and patting the spot next to him. “That sounds boring.”

“It’s my duty,” Castiel said, sitting next to him. With their legs stretched out on the bed, they were almost close enough to touch. “What did _you_ do back home? Your father is the Alpha, surely your day to day life wasn’t too different from mine.”

Chuckling, Dean threaded his fingers behind his head. “You’d be surprised. For one, I’ve left all the studying to Sammy while I’m more hands on with the work I do.”

“Like what?”

“Like taking over the trading business, learning from Ellen and Bobby how to strike deals and sweet talk customers, keep our logbooks tidy and up to date. I also attend some Council meetings with Dad but I don’t think anyone expects me to become the Alpha after him. Sammy is much more suited to politics than I am, and generally more well liked among our people.”

Castiel was surprised to hear that. Dean had a natural charm that seemed to draw everyone in, and from Castiel’s experience, his sweet talking wasn’t limited to customers. 

“But you know, I’d rather follow in Grandpa Henry’s footsteps than Dad’s or Grandpa Samuel’s,” Dean said, mouth twisting with something nervous. “He travelled the whole world and brought back the best silks and rugs.”

“So your family are traders?” Castiel asked, not able to help the smile that crossed his face when seeing Dean’s whole demeanor lighting up at the mention of his grandfather’s adventures.

“We gotta make a living among the humans, don’t we?” Dean said, nodding. “And as long as we keep the gold coming into the city, the humans are less likely to be suspicious of us. Quite a few of the big vampires families have sons and daughters in high positions in the human kingdom, and using our businesses as a facade allowed our ancestors to build our Council House without any of the humans batting an eyelash.”

Castiel frowned, though the image Dean was painting of his hometown was quite appealing. “They can’t be that stupid, surely.” 

“They’re not stupid, it’s just that they have some of their facts wrong,” Dean answered, amusement evident in his voice. “Did you know, they think that _you_ won the war and hwe're still under your control?”

“No,” Castiel said, trying to wrap his mind around that. “Why would they think that?”

Dean shrugged. “Because they don’t understand us. To them, the war is as far away as the fae are to us. I mean to the vampires. I assume witches have some communication?”

“We’ve made a deal in the last few years that benefits both sides,” Castiel said. “Dorothy agreeing to bond with Michael certainly helped our relations far more than any messages and gifts we exchange.”

“Amazing,” Dean said, eyes gleaming. “The fae are notorious for keeping to themselves. Last we heard, no one was allowed in or out of their kingdom without a Queen’s Letter allowing it.”

“The war didn’t touch them, but the reasons that forced your people into rebellion forced them into hiding,” Castiel said, eyes dropping to his hands on his lap. “At least we’ve tried to amend things with them in the years since then.”

Dean elbowed him in the side, drawing his eyes back to him. “The way I see it, you’ve been doing a lot to amend things with us as well. And if one of us really tried to kill your brother, just know that he’s part of a minority. No one in my family would condone such behaviour.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him. “Signing a peace treaty because humans are threatening both of us is hardly amending things.”

“It’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?” Dean asked, settling heavily against Castiel. “I mean I get why Dad is guarded with this whole thing, but you’re pretty cool so far, and if you don’t count your friends arresting me and throwing me in jail, I’m guessing they are pretty cool, too.”

“I wish everyone thought like you,” Castiel said, warmth spreading inside him, both from Dean’s words and from where they were touching shoulder to elbow.

“Who’d have thought, Sammy left some brains for me, too, right?” Dean joked. He narrowed his eyes around the room, chewing on his lower lip. “So what’s fun around here?”

“Not much inside my room,” Castiel admitted. “But I do have some boardgames. And chess.”

“Oh, dude, you play chess?” Dean asked, pulling away to twist his torso and face Castiel head on. “What are you waiting for? Bring it. Sammy and I play all the time.”

“You must be good then.” 

Castiel missed Dean the moment he wasn’t right next to him anymore, but he obediently climbed off the bed to retrieve the chessboard. He couldn’t resist Dean’s excited puppy eyes, and there wasn’t even a point in trying.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Dean promised, all cocky bravado and foolish confidence.

Castiel didn’t doubt Sam Winchester was an expert, and that had made Dean a good player. But Castiel had been playing against Kevin for years, and that was the ultimate training experience. 

Settling back on the bed, this time across from each other, Castiel started setting up the pieces. It was tempting to let Dean beat him, but it was even more tempting to go all out on him just to watch him huff frustratedly. He hadn’t settled on either of the options yet, but he’d see how the game went and decide soon enough.

Evening melted into night, the light slowly disappearing until the whole world was still. Pushing the curtains aside and opening his window after so many hours felt refreshing, the chilly air caressing Castiel’s cheeks like a long lost friend.

“Looks like the coast is clear,” he said, his back deliberately to Dean.The shuffling sounds of clothes being shed made his heart speed up, but he kept facing outside, his back straight.

“Awesome,” was all Dean said, before a soft _swoosh!_ sound, and then a black, furry lightning bolt was flying by Castiel and outside.

“Stay low,” Castiel warned him in a low voice. He was sure Dean’s hearing was good enough to catch that even as he turned and tumbled in midair, stretching his wings. 

There was no mistaking his flapping and soaring for anything other than happiness. Staying in a room for the better part of a day must have taken a toll on Dean, despite his easy-going demeanor. As long as this first experimental night went according to plan, Castiel didn’t see why they couldn’t keep doing this. It’d be easier to let Dean hunt small animals anyway, and it provided some much needed relief from all the pent up tension.

Castiel watched the bat flying through the low bushes under his window before grabbing a book from his nightstand and muttering a quick summoning spell that brought his broom from the storage room on the lower terrace where all brooms were kept in. Dean was the only one with wings, but Cas could fly, too.

For tonight, though, he chose to use his broom only long enough to lower himself to the private garden under his room. 

It was a tiny thing, compared to the rest of the castle grounds, but it had the advantage of tall hedges obscuring the view to anyone standing outside. The overgrown bushes and the flower sheds that hugged the pebbled paths, with grass growing between the swirling vine pattern the stones created, made the entire place feel more magical than the well-trimmed trees and labyrinths that made up the official garden. A pond with water lilies and a gazebo on the other side of that were Castiel’s favorite feature, along with the white lilies his mother had planted by the hundreds everywhere she could find space. 

It was a little chilly for fireflies, but with a small circular gesture, Cas produced dozens of pinhead sized fireballs that were almost as good as the real thing, if a lot slower. They did glide through the air quite gracefully, though, as Castiel noticed with a tinge of pride. It was a spell that had taken him quite some time to perfect, but the effect was pretty enough to make even Dean pause for a second and marvel.

Biting down a smile, Castiel summoned a couple of his magical fireflies to light his way as he walked around the pond and towards the gazebo, its roof heavy with flowers year round thanks to their very talented gardener mage.

He hadn’t thought to bring a blanket, but Castiel didn’t mind being a little cold as he settled on the bench with his book, smiling at the bat gliding over the water with soft, excited shrieks. 

Dean worked hard in chasing after Castiel’s fireflies, only for them to disappear as soon as he had his jaws around them and reappear a few feet away from him. Not deterred in the slightest, Dean only flapped his wings faster, his maneuvers becoming sharper and more precise under Castiel’s amused gaze. He never caught one, but Castiel didn’t think he looked too bummed about that. 

Shaking his head, Castiel turned his attention to his book, but losing himself in the rich world of dragons and knights wasn’t as easy as he expected. More and more he found himself glancing up, scanning the pond and the bushes around it for a sign of Dean. Sometimes he thought he saw a shadow move, sometimes nothing at all, and sometimes he saw Dean lunge for a frog on one of the rocks only for the frog to jump back into the water at the last moment and make Dean almost headbutt the rock.

It was amusing in a way, even if Castiel could tell Dean was getting increasingly frustrated with his repeated failures. Maybe vampires weren’t that good of hunters after all, or maybe just Dean wasn’t, he mused. 

Deciding that maybe Dean needed a little help, Castiel waited until he saw another frog climb up the rocks. He knew the moment Dean spotted it, too, for the small bat fell back into the shadows, silent and unseen. Castiel counted his breaths, preparing himself for the pull of magic from deep inside him that would make his spell as fast as an arrow. One second, two, and then there was a rustle of leaves, a lily petal hitting the surface of the pond and Castiel knew it was time.

He released his spell just as Dean leapt from behind the bushes, the magic hitting the frog straight through its body, stunning it long enough for Dean to sink his teeth in its neck and snatch it off the rock. 

With the frog still hanging from his mouth, Dean half turned his head over his shoulder to steal a glance at Castiel. Maybe it was his imagination, but Dean looked like he was quite proud of his catch, even showing off. 

Heart growing at least two sizes at the cute display, Castiel placed his book on the bench next to him to offer a small applause.

If a bat could preen, Dead did just that. Then he jumped into the bushes to enjoy his meal.

It seemed catching the first frog did Dean some good, because the next two that he managed to grab before they disappeared back into the water were all his work, no magical assistance from Castiel. 

Content to let him feed, Castiel curled up with his book, gathering his fireflies closer as clouds passed every now and hid the moonlight. When he’d been sitting long enough that going back to his room to retrieve a blanket seemed like a good idea, the stirring of leaves somewhere close by made him lift his head.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” Dean announced, leaning against one of the pillars, vines with red blooms climbing around it. He was standing in such a place that his lower half was strategically hidden behind bushes. 

Bookmarking the page and closing the book, Castiel gathered his knees up to his chest, hands wrapped around them. “You seemed to be having fun.”

“Yeah, I needed to stretch my wings,” Dean admitted, giving him a bright smile. “And I needed some real, fresh blood after all those days with the weird stuff your guards were bringing me.”

All of the fireflies were soaring between them now, scattering their golden glow against the freckles on Dean’s skin. Under that low light, his eyes were almost gold.

“We could hang around a little more,” Castiel offered, quite conscious of the space he’d freed up on the bench next to him. 

“No offense, Cas, but you look a little blue. I’m surprised you haven’t returned to your warm bed yet,” Dean said, rubbing a hand behind his neck. He looked quite comfortable exposed to the chilly breeze. Vampires probably felt cold and warm differently than other species, just like they did with light. 

“I was thinking of finding a blanket,” Castiel admitted. “It’s a lovely night despite the cold, and I’m enjoying my time here. If you’re not ready to go back, I’d like to stay with you.”

“I mean, I’m kind of tired too, and besides, you need to catch some sleep before you get up to perform your royal duties tomorrow morning,” Dean said, glancing away. “I think it’s a good time to go to bed, don’t you think?”

Castiel’s heart squeezed behind his ribs. Sleeping next to Dean last night had been… interesting. Certainly far warmer than sleeping alone had ever been, but also strangely comforting. It’d been nice to wake up from time to time only to be lulled back to sleep by someone’s even breathing next to him. He was looking forward to spending another night like that.

“Sure,” he said, grabbing his book and summoning his broom to take him back to his room—or should it be _their_ room now?

“Race you back?” Dean asked with a flirty wink.

Castiel adjusted his grip on his broom, swinging a leg over it and taking position. “The way I see it,” he said, giving Dean a wide grin and kicking the leg under him to push the broom away from the ground, “You’re already falling behind.”

And with that he zipped past Dean, the wind giving him more and more height as he crossed the pond. 

There was a chuckle and a flap of wings that Castiel might have imagined, but then Dean was off, too, and quickly catching up to him. Not even bothering to hide his smile, Castiel pushed on. Maybe he wouldn’t beat Dean, but the faster they both made it back to their room, the more time Castiel would get to spend with Dean in the bed next to him, and that was quite the motivation.


	5. Chapter 5

John kept the fire going in his office at all times, though he didn’t need it. His body was perfectly capable of withstanding even the coldest nights of the cruel north where the witches resided, so the fairly mild temperatures in the south cities the humans favored were very comfortable to him. But not to humans, he kept reminding himself. As long as he lived among them, he had to live _like_ them or risk exposing their whole secret society to a group of ignorant maniacs that would stab them with a wooden stake first and ask questions later. As the Alpha, he was twice as strict in reinforcing such rules for his own family as the rest of the vampires. 

So it was always a headache when his own father-in-law seemed to ignore these rules.

“What do you need the fire for, son? It’s like a furnace in here,” Samuel complained as soon as the door was closed behind him. He removed his travel coat and gloves, resting them on the arm of a chair before joining John by the window.

The moonlight cast the street in silver hues, the few scattered figures still out at this time of night walking briskly with their heads lowered to get to their destinations.

“Keeping up appearances is important,” John growled, feeling a muscle tensing under his jaw. Surely what he was asking was only logical and there was no reason for him to repeat it. And yet here he was, worrying reports piling up on his desk by the minute, zero news on his son, and Samuel still thinking he was living in the great time of their first independence, when vampires had still been good at covering their tracks with their charming glamour, and they could live relatively worry free.

Samuel snorted. “It’s just us here, John, your family.”

“And a dozen human servants,” John pointed out. “There’s gossip, you know. Vampire attacks have multiplied in the last few days.”

“They have?” Samuel asked, his hold on his travelling stick tightening. “So there are still idiots out there that neglect to make their ‘donors’ forget?”

“I’m starting to think it’s not idiots,” John confided. No one else knew that, just him and Bobby. “From the moment we put all our vampires on a stricter diet, it seems we have more cases than before. This is not random, someone is purposefully attacking humans and not erasing their memories. The same someone that tried to kill Michael.”

“That’s absurd, John. Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” John promised. A beat. “My knife is missing,” he added as an afterthought.

“Your knife?” Samuel asked, turning a little towards him to raise an eyebrow.

John nodded. “I thought I’d misplaced it since we packed everything in such a hurry, but there’s something bothering me. I was wearing it at the welcome feast, and just a few hours later my son was arrested. Do you think these are all coincidences?”

“Why would anyone want to kill the High Priest and put the blame on Dean? He’s just a child,” Samuel argued. “If anything, it should be further proof that it was the witches framing us just to get the upper hand. The feast was nothing more than a trap.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” John said, mouth pressing into a thin line. “But I’m starting to think both Michael and I fell for it.”

Waking up was a slow process for Castiel. It started with his dreams giving way to a gradual awareness of his surroundings—the soft sheets, the warm blanket, the heavy hand wrapped around his waist, the puff of hot breath against the nape of his neck every few seconds. 

Keeping the rest of his body perfectly still, Castiel turned his head as much as he could without disturbing the person sleeping behind him. And surely enough, Dean was still lightly snoring, face soft and untroubled, his chest barely an inch away from Castiel’s back.

Brain still covered in sleepy cotton, Castiel blinked, trying to understand how they’d ended up like this. He was sure they’d fallen asleep with their backs to each other, so they must have rolled over during the couple of hours he managed to doze off. 

It wasn’t unpleasant, quite the contrary. Castiel felt a warmth spread through his body, and his brain protested every niggling thought that told him he should have been up long ago. Technically, he could sleep in today, seeing as everyone was too busy guarding the castle and the town to pay him any mind for neglecting his schedule, but he knew that he always ran the risk of one of the servants showing up to take him down for breakfast.

He couldn’t let them find Dean.

Reluctantly, he slipped out of bed, padding across the room to take a peek outside. The sun was high in the sky, so Michael had probably already finished with his breakfast. Soon enough, servants would start spreading through the castle to start their daily chores.

“Dean, it’s time to wake up,” he said softly, going back to shake Dean awake.

“A few more minutes,” Dean mumbled, burying his head further into the pillow. 

“Someone might come and find you,” Castiel reminded him. “I’ll put one of the pillows above my closet if you want to sleep, but you have to hide.”

Groaning, Dean rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll go nap in the corner.”

Once he had Dean settled, Castiel hurried away to start his day. He had quite the schedule, his plans making a nervous knot form in his stomach. Today was the first day of the Meetings. 

But first, he had something else to do.

He made his way towards the town, where he knew Kevin’s mom’s house was, and where Inias had been staying since being kicked out of the Royal Guard. His place in the Guard dormitory had been revoked, and since his parents were long gone, both victims to the war that had left Castiel an orphan too, he’d moved in with his familiar. Under other circumstances, Inias would have been in seventh heaven, Castiel was sure, but as it was, he found his friend brooding in his room.

“He’s taken it quite hard,” Kevin explained, letting Castiel inside. “I’m worried about him. Mom has to force him to eat, otherwise he goes on without so much as glancing at the food she brings him.”

“He still hasn’t left the house?” Castiel asked, guilt weighing like a rock in his gut. He was surprised to find the same feeling crossing Kevin’s eyes.

“Not since Mrs. Baum gave him the news and he gathered his stuff to come here. He barely even talks to me.” Anxiously playing with the hem of his shirt, Kevin dropped his voice as they were nearing Inias’ room. “I think he blames me.”

“Don’t say that,” Castiel said, his voice breaking. 

“But it was me he was looking for that day,” Kevin said. 

Castiel winced. He’d really screwed that up, hadn’t he? Both his friends were suffering for his selfish actions, and worst of all, he hadn't even considered the side effects of Dean escaping when he’d lied to Hannah.

Inias looked up when Castiel walked in, but he barely gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Hello, Inias,” Castiel said, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s been a while since I saw you, so I thought I’d visit.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Inias countered. He was sitting on the window seat, looking down at the morning crowd moving along the street. This part of the town was always busy, but with the emergency situation Michael had declared and the frequent patrols Dorothy was leading, most of the witches had limited their coming and going to what was strictly necessary. 

Slipping into the room beside Castiel, Kevin hurried to bring the desk chair closer to the window. “Grab a seat, Castiel. We have coffee ready, and Mom said she’ll be making something for you to eat. How do scones sound?”

“Please, you don’t have to go to such trouble,” Castiel started to say, but his voice died at the look Kevin turned on him. It was clear this was not so much for Castiel as another way to get Inias to eat something. Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Castiel nodded. 

“Alrighty, I’ll get a tray ready, and I’ll be right back,” Kevin said, clapping his hands together.

The door had barely closed behind him, when Inias sighed. “He should be studying, not trying to sneak food into me.”

“He’s worried about you,” Castiel said, taking his seat. “And I don’t think there’ll be any Scholar exams happening while D—the prisoner is still on the loose. Dorothy has been paranoid about everything and everyone since the night of the feast.”

“As she should be,” Inias said, waving a hand to the direction of the town. “We were outsmarted by a fucking bat of all things. _I_ was outsmarted by a fucking bat,” he added bitterly, turning his face away. 

Castiel winced internally. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known he would escape.”

“That’s what’s been driving me crazy. He must have had that potion ready for a while and just waiting for the opportunity to use it. I was just the idiot that gave it to him.” Shaking his head in frustration, Inias bit his lower lip. “I figured… Hell, I admit I wasn’t thinking clearly at the moment, you know how I can get when it comes to Kevin, but it was almost time for me to go anyway. I didn’t think five minutes would make a difference.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t have,” Castiel said in an effort to soothe his friend. “You couldn’t have known that he had that potion, and really whoever was in charge of searching him when he was imprisoned should have been punished, too.” He didn’t bother mentioning that Dean had been naked when the guards had arrested him, nor that Dorothy was convinced—as she should be—that Dean had help escaping. White lies were sometimes needed to help others, he’d found in the twenty one years of his life, especially in this situation, where he was desperate to clean up his mess. “Dorothy was understandably upset when the prisoner escaped, and you were just the easiest target to take her wrath out on.”

“Make room, breakfast’s here,” Kevin announced, pushing the door open with his shoulder. The tray he was carrying was overflowing with food, and not just the scones he’d mentioned earlier. Mrs. Tran had gone all out, adding cheese, fruits, scrambled eggs and even sausages. 

In truth, Castiel was already full from the breakfast he’d had at the castle, but just a look in Kevin’s direction ended any thought of refusing before it could even form in his mind. He was going to eat, and he was going to force Inias to eat, too.

Kevin placed the tray on the empty space next to Inias, before passing around empty plates. “And here’s the coffee.” 

Castiel thanked him, accepting the cup. He took a sip, using it as an excuse to gather his thoughts while he didn’t have to talk. He had to fix this somehow. Inias shouldn’t suffer for Castiel’s actions.

“You know, maybe I could talk to Dorothy,” he said, trying not to look horrified at the amount of food Kevin was dumping on everyone’s plate. It seemed that in his determination to feed Inias, Kevin didn’t care about Castiel’s stomach bursting from too much food. And there was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that he’d be forced to eat every last bite.

Inias dropped his eyes, pushing the food on the plate around with his fork. “It’s fine. I don’t want to use you.”

“You wouldn’t be using me,” Castiel said, frowning. 

“That’s not what people would say,” Inias pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“The eggs are amazing,” Kevin jumped in, taking a bite and playing up his appreciative hum at the taste. “Don’t you think, Castiel?”

“Oh, yeah. Delicious.” Catching up to what Kevin was trying to do, Castiel hurried to take a few bites, too, nodding his head in approval. It really was tasty, but he could only taste the bitterness that lying left in the back of his throat. 

“Oh, yeah, Mom really outdid herself this time. Go on, Inias, don’t be shy,” Kevin urged, gesturing at the plate in his witch’s lap.

“I’m not really hungry, Kev,” Inias murmured, dropping his fork on the plate. “Maybe later.”

Shooting Castiel a panicked look, Kevin visibly forced a smile on his face. “You don’t want to make Mom sad, do you? She made the eggs especially for you.”

“Best eggs I’ve ever had,” Castiel chimed in, holding up a forkful before shoving it in his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“There has to be something I can do that will redeem me to Dorothy,” Inias said, ignoring both of them. 

“Maybe she just needs some time to cool off,” Kevin suggested with growing frustration. “Did you try the oranges? They’re very sweet this time of the year.”

“They’re always sweet. The farmers make sure they are, with their spells and fertilizing potions,” Inias waved him off. “She’s right to be upset. I just wish she’d let me make up for my mistake.”

“Look, Inias, you’re a strong witch and a very well-trained soldier. Dorothy would be crazy to kick you out of the Guard,” Castiel tried. “I’m sure once this whole situation has blown over she’ll realize you’re an asset and take you back.”

“Who knows when this situation will blow over.” Inias huffed, picking up his fork only to stab a piece of sausage. He glared at it hard enough that a small spark flared around it.

“Woah, woah. Easy there. We don’t want to burn the house down, do we?” Kevin hurried to knock the fork out of Inias’ hand, breaking the contact and the flow of magic. He took the plate away from Inias, placing it back on the tray. “You know, being holed up in here really isn’t good for you. You have too much magical energy stored up. I can feel it in the air, and it makes me itchy.”

“It’s not like I have an outlet,” Inias complained. “If I was still training I would be using up all that pent up energy. If I was still part of the Royal Guard I would be out there with everyone, searching for the vampire, and I…” He trailed off for a beat, then his eyes widened. “Holy shit, that’s it.”

“Um, okay,” Kevin said, looking just as baffled as Castiel felt. “Care to elaborate?”

Face flushed with excitement, Inias grabbed his familiar by the shoulders and shook him. “Kev, can’t you see? I have to track down the vampire and catch him. It’s the only way I could ever face Dorothy again without feeling ashamed. It’s the only way to fix my mistake.”

Without waiting for a response, he jumped off his seat, not caring about his plate falling and spilling all over the floor, or about poor Kevin trying to save his own plate from a similar fortune. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing his coat from a hook behind the door. 

“Kevin, tell Linda I won’t be back for lunch,” he announced, shrugging his coat on, and then he was off. 

Sighing, Kevin shot the mess on the floor an annoyed glare. “At least he’s finally out of the house, I guess.”

Meanwhile Castiel was still frozen in shock. That definitely hadn’t been his intention in coming here. It was the furthest thing from his intention. He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back. He needed to relax and find a way to fix this. The guards patrolling the city was one thing, Inias himself looking into this was another. Apart from Hannah, he was probably the only person who knew it’d been Castiel that had sent him away from his position. Once he started thinking about everything clearly, questions were soon to follow, and after questions the inevitable follow up was an investigation. Castiel had to prevent that. And like always, the way to control Inias was through Kevin. 

“Is it wise to let him roam free in his state?” Castiel asked, placing his plate back on the tray. Making a circle in the air with his right hand, he cleaned up the mess, the plate floating up from the floor, followed by the food that landed sparkling clean on top of it. It was like the mess had never happened. “I mean, he’s not exactly thinking clearly at the moment.”

Kevin caught the plate midair, shrugging. “Why not? Maybe I can convince him to eat if I tell him he needs energy to go after a vampire.” He nodded towards the clean floor. “Thanks for that by the way” 

“But what if he does find him? Aren’t you worried about him being hurt?”

Kevin glanced at him over his shoulder, frowning. “That vampire probably hasn’t fed since the feast. Inias is strong, and if he insists on going after the bat, I’m going to help him.”

Castiel’s stomach twisted hard enough that he was sure he could feel his breakfast coming up his throat. “Kevin, this is dangerous. That vampire managed to sneak into the castle under the Guard’s eye, and he almost killed my brother.”

He already knew he’d lost this argument, but he had to plead his case one more time before he left, if not for any other reason but to be sure that he tried everything he could at this point. If Kevin wasn’t going to help him, Castiel would have to come up with another way to make Inias stay out of it.

“Nonsense. A weakened vampire is not a threat to a fully-powered witch and his familiar,” Kevin said, watching as Castiel stood and buttoned up his coat, before stepping between him and the door. “You don’t have to go. There’s plenty of food.”

“I’m fine. I have to go anyway. Today are the Meetings,” Castiel said, the wheels in his mind already spinning. Michael’s obsession with him finding a familiar was at least the perfect excuse to get out of there. He wasn’t sure he could sit and talk with Kevin while Inias was out there searching for Dean. 

“Oh, that wasn’t cancelled? Well, good luck then, I guess. I hope you meet the lucky one this year.”

“Thank you. You don’t have to walk me to the door, I’ll see myself out.”

Purposefully slowing his pace to not seem suspicious, Castiel left Kevin’s house, intent on skipping the Meetings entirely. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He had to get back to his room and think of a plan. With a last glance back towards the narrow brick house, he started on his way back up the hill. 

Lady Luck wasn’t on his side, though. Almost as soon as he stepped past the castle gate, a voice calling his name stopped him. 

“Castiel, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Hannah hurried down the garden path, her dark hair falling in loose curls around her grim face. 

Wonderful. The last person Castiel wanted to see right now. He’d spent the last couple of days avoiding her, but with the Meetings looming over both of them, it seemed like he’d run out of excuses. 

“Where were you? I thought we’d agreed we’d go to the Meetings together today,” she said, coming to stand before him with her hands on her hips. “I was looking for you all over the castle.”

“I— uh, I was just visiting Inias,” Castiel said, twisting around in an effort to find an excuse to send her away. Had she looked in his room? Even if she had, she hadn’t found Dean, otherwise they’d be having a very different conversation right now.

Hannah tilted her head to the side, frowning. “Did you apologize for getting him fired?”

Snapping his eyes back to her face, Castiel felt his mouth falling open. “What?”

“For your mistake? With Kevin? He wasn’t stuck in any shelf when we found him,” Hannah pointed out, narrowing her eyes at him. “I mean sure, he was in full panic mode about his studying, and I guess that counts as an emergency in both his and Inias’ minds, but at the end of the day there was no reason for Inias to leave his position.” She quirked her head to the side, looking Castiel up and down. “You did tell your brother it was your fault, right?”

Castiel forced his shoulders down. He always knew Hannah would ask questions, and he’d prepared for this, but everything that happened with Inias not even an hour ago had left him on edge. He needed to appear relaxed if he didn't want to raise her suspicions.

“Of course I did,” he lied, guilt settling heavy in his gut. It was a feeling he was getting used to in the last few days. “He didn’t care much. In his eyes, Inias made a mistake when he left his position and had to pay for it. I guess Michael has bigger things to worry about.”

“I’m sure he does,” Hannah said slowly, staring at him. There was something like uncertainty in her voice that Castiel didn’t like. 

“You know how Michael and Dorothy are,” Castiel added, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure I can talk them into forgiving Inias once they’ve calmed down a bit. They’re strict but not unfair, the vampire would have escaped eventually if he had the potion.”

“There are rumors that he had help,” Hannah said. “Someone else had the potion, not the prisoner, apparently.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard about that. They must have spies everywhere, right?” Castiel chuckled, but it came out so fake and forced, even to his own ears, that he choked on it. 

“Right,” she said, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

Time to distract her then. “So, do you think you’ll meet your familiar today?” Castiel stepped to the side, gesturing with his head towards the University down the hill, where the Meetings were held every year. 

“I want to keep my options open,” she said, falling into step with him. The Meetings and their potential matches with familiars had been a topic Hannah could talk about for hours, and also the perfect way to divert her attention from any suspicious questions. “We do have a whole week of talking with people to find our perfect match, and you know this is only my first year so I’m not very hopeful. You went to the Meetings last year, too,” she said, unaware of the way Castiel was rejoicing inside at his distracting strategy working better than a charm. “Any tips for a newcomer?”

“There’s always next year?” Castiel tried. Then he winced. “Honestly, I didn’t really click with anyone last time. Most of the meetings I sat through were pretty awkward, so I don’t have much to share.”

“I guess I should have asked others that are already bonded,” Hannah hummed thoughtfully. “I just hope I’m as lucky as Anna and Charlie, and I meet my perfect match on the first try.”

“Inias met Kevin the third year he attended the Meetings, and he looks pretty happy with the end result. I’d say giving it time unless you’re absolutely sure is the way to go,” Castiel said as the dome of the university came into view through the treetops. It was made entirely of glass, a massive project his ancestors had erected following the style of their time. Beautiful, intimidating and vampire-proof. With all the sunlight pouring in through the roof it was impossible for any vampire to step foot inside during the day.

hen he was a student, nearly a century after the wars started, his professors had insisted that when living in the north, it’d be stupid to not take advantage of what little sunlight they could get, but Castiel had spent equal amounts of time studying strategy and politics with Dorothy and knew that there were multiple reasons for every decision made. 

As they walked down the stone path, the high walls of the university appeared behind the trees and bushes, tall windows giving a grand view to the witches and familiars walking inside the halls. The lower towers that flagged the dome on its four corners glimmered under the sun, emerald roof-tiles catching the eye like a dragon’s scales. 

Hannah grinned, practically bouncing the closer they got to the massive main entrance, a mahogany door almost twice as tall as Castiel with the main rules of magic carved into both sides of it. “Look, there are already so many people gathered here.”

There really were a lot of people, much more than Castiel had expected under the circumstances. From this far he couldn’t tell the witches and familiars apart, but as they approached the main door, he saw that like last year, the participants were separated into two queues, one with a sign depicting a witch’s hat and the other a black cat. Professors were giving the applicants papers to fill out. Some Castiel was sure he’d seen the previous time he’d attended the Meetings, but most of the faces were new. 

Somehow that only made things worse. Stomach churning, he accepted the papers an elder witch handed to him and Hannah and followed her to the waiting room to their left. As expected, the questionnaire they had to fill was the standard one they used every year. What was their magical specialization, what career were they planning on pursuing, how would they describe themselves, what they were looking for in a familiar, etc, etc, etc. 

Where Hannah took her sweet time thinking through every question, her lip bruised and swollen from all the biting once she was done, Castiel quickly wrote the same answers he had last year. It took an hour for every witch to submit their answers, and about half an hour more before the answers of every participant were passed through the spell that decided on the pairs. After that, the doors that led to the main room opened, letting everyone inside. 

Looking down at the paper with the numbers he’d been given, Castiel gave Hannah a weak smile before wandering away. His first match was apparently a girl with the number nineteen, whose animal form was an otter. He caught sight of her scanning the crowd, and when their eyes met she waved at him, her big, round eyes landing on an empty table nearby. Without needing to be told, Castiel made a beeline for it. 

Sitting across from each other, the girl—Ava, her name tag said—offered her hand. “Hello, Castiel. It’s nice to meet you.”

Castiel returned the handshake, trying his best to be pleasant and polite. It wasn’t anyone’s fault he had other things to worry about. He was here, the least he could do was to put in minimal effort.

“Hello, Ava. I see in your answers that you’re interested in healing magic?”

“Oh, yes, very much.” She nodded, practically squealing; definitely her first time, Castiel decided. “My mom was a healer’s assistant, and I always wanted to follow in her footsteps. I guess that’s why they paired us up, since you have written herbology down as your main area of work.”

He glanced down at her answers again. “I do, though I’m more interested in the theoretical properties of herbs, as well as the development of new uses of their extracts. That of course means that I don’t really work with patients. Most of my research is done in the alchemy workshop, and if I have promising results, they’re passed over to therapists to test in practice.”

“Oh. So you don’t really work with the sick.” 

He shook his head. “No, not really. Sorry.”

She visibly deflated, eyes dimming before she brightened up again. This time it felt forced, though. “Well, how about any other interests? I’m a big fan of swimming, how about you?” 

He was definitely _not_ a big fan of swimming, not since he was ten years old and almost drowned in the lake up in the mountain where he, Michael and Dorothy went away on a week-long vacation. He sighed. 

This was going to be a long day.

Exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders, Castiel bid Hannah goodbye several hours later to return back to the castle. Not really in the mood to talk about how the Meetings went—or watch Michael’s eyes fill with desperate hope only for Castiel to let him down by coming back without a familiar—he strayed from the main path, choosing to walk through their vast gardens instead. With everyone so busy enforcing military laws around the castle and the town, he was sure he wouldn’t be missed.

Levitating himself up to his window from the private garden would be easier, but since he needed something to eat for dinner, he made a detour to the kitchen, asking the cook to prepare his steak on the rare side. Ηe didn’t have much appetite with the way his stomach was still in a tight ball, but at least Dean might benefit from it. Sneaking through the halls was harder, but Castiel soon found himself kicking his bedroom door closed behind him.

He took a steadying breath, sending the tray to his desk with a quick spell, and inspected the room. The curtains were open wide and his bed was made. Someone had also mopped the floor and dusted the shelves.

Heart picking up at all the possibilities running wild inside his head, he moved to close the curtains. The sun would be setting any moment now, but he’d rather not risk anyone looking towards his window and seeing something they shouldn’t.

“Dean?” he hissed, stepping towards the bed.

A screech answered him, followed by a flap of wings as a dark ball shot out from above his closet. Dean was already back in his human form when he landed, bowlegs bending at the knees to absorb the force of his landing. He was wearing his wide grin and nothing else—of course—as he glanced over his shoulder at Castiel.

“Hey, you’re back!”

Castiel determinedly did not stare at his ass. Or his thighs. He fixed his gaze on Dean’s eyes, which by all accounts should be the safer choice but was in some ways worse. For one, locking eyes with Dean usually led to a weird fuzzy warmth spreading through him, and more recently to a certain tension in the atmosphere that Castiel could feel fizzling against his skin. Waking up cuddling this morning didn’t help.

“Yeah, sorry for taking so long,” Castiel said. “I had a lot of things to do today. Did anyone come in here?”

“Um, a cleaning lady with her familiar,” Dean answered and crossed the room to open the closet and take a pile of folded clothes to get dressed again. “Lucky for me her familiar was a bunny who took care of all the dust under your bed, and she didn’t seem to care much for the dark corner above your closet.”

“No one ever looks there, that’s why it’s the perfect hiding place,” Castiel said, averting his eyes as Dean bent to pull on a pair of pants. “So just the two of them? Nobody else?”

Dean pursed his lips in thought then snapped his fingers together. “Oh, yeah. A friend of yours knocked on the door late in the morning, a girl I think, but she didn’t come in.”

“Hannah,” Castiel provided, sitting on the edge of his bed. She’d be looking for him again tomorrow, for the second day of the Meetings, and he’d better find her first. 

Fully dressed again, Dean walked towards the desk, inspecting the bloody steak waiting there. “Is that for me?”

It was for both of them, but Castiel wasn’t hungry. He nodded, watching as Dean sat down to eat with a pleased smile. Castiel was happy to let him eat in silence while he processed everything that had happened that day. Back when he broke Dean out of prison, everything had seemed so easy, but now he was facing new challenges at every turn. He needed a solid plan, or soon enough he’d be joining Dean behind bars. 

Focusing his attention back on the Βat Βoy that was the cause of all his problems, he noticed Dean didn’t seem too worried. Maybe he was a little tired, Castiel thought, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the grey tinge to his skin, but who wouldn’t be after spending an entire day in animal form and hiding. His appetite hadn’t suffered though. Dean ate the steak in record time, even using the bread Castiel had brought to gather the last bits of sauce and blood from the bottom of the plate. 

He dropped back against his seat, a hand over his swollen belly. “That was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

“I’ll make sure to deliver them,” Castiel said dryly, but he couldn’t fight back the beginnings of a smile. 

“Ηοw was your day?” Dean asked, curious eyes turning on Castiel.

“Stressful,” Castiel admitted. “Inias had the brilliant idea to go out and look for the prisoner himself, so now I have to be careful of my friend on top of everyone else.”

“I thought you had other friends in the Royal Guard looking for me.”

Castiel shook his head. “That’s different. Anna and Charlie are following orders, _Dorothy’s_ orders. They’re predictable. Inias working on his own is a wild card, harder to predict. We’ll have to be extra careful.”

“Alright. Νo more night hunting, I guess,” Dean said, making a clear effort to keep his face from falling.

“There’s no reason to keep you in here,” Castiel said. “I can always create an illusion around the garden to hide us both.”

Dean didn’t look too convinced. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?”

“It would be easier with a familiar to conduct and direct my magic through, but I’ve been casting spells on my own since I was able to walk. If I keep the illusion thin around the parts of the garden that are further away from us and focus instead on a core around us, it should hold up for several hours.”

“That still sounds like a lot of trouble. I’d love to stretch my wings though, if you’re sure. Thanks, Cas.” As if to prove his point, Dean stretched his arms over his head, drawing Castiel’s attention to the firm line of his shoulders, clearly visible even under the loose shirt he was wearing. Noticing the way Castiel’s eyes lingered, Dean gave him a flirty wink, which made Castiel’s cheeks heat in response. 

“Speaking of familiars,” Dean went on, “wasn’t today that familiar market thing?”

“It’s a meeting,” Castiel corrected him on instinct. “Every witch and familiar over the age of twenty-one can choose to participate. The Head Sorcerers of the university then make sure that familiars and witches are matched based on their personality and type of magic, and then we are given a week to talk with all our matches. If we like someone and they like us, we can agree on a trial period or just go straight for the bonding ceremony.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. You have magical matchmakers that make sure you get a familiar that suits your needs—”

“And that we suit theirs,” Castiel interrupted, but Dean just rolled his eyes at him.

“—and some pairs just have a wedding or whatever right away?”

“It’s not a wedding, it’s a bonding ceremony. The relationship between a witch and his or her familiar is not a romantic one. I mean, it _can_ be, but they can also be friends, family, brothers in arms and anything in between. The bond is special and hard to describe to outsiders, or so I’m told, but there are no rules to how the relationship between the two will grow.”

“And shifters willingly take part in these Meetings?” Dean asked, a shadow of doubt crossing his face. 

Castiel nodded.

“Okay, explain this. How do you go from magical matchmakers that set you up on what are essentially blind dates for your life partners to enslaving a whole species?” Dean asked, then winced. “Or rather why didn’t you go the peaceful way earlier?”

Explaining the motives behind the actions of people that lived centuries ago and the social structure back then needed a whole semester of classes to be understood, but it could be summarized like this: “Witches have powerful magic in them, but casting spells can quickly drain us. Familiars allow us to ‘borrow’ their magic and have better stamina, as well as more control over our spells. Now, that could mean that a witch might choose to drain the familiar’s life force instead, but that’s prohibited nowadays. Familiars are used as beacons, as a sort of filter if you want, that make the structure of our magic more stable and less energy consuming.”

He eyed Dean, and finding that he was tilting his head to the side curiously, Castiel continued. 

“There’s a hierarchy of power for different types of familiars. Shifters, vampires and fae have a fixed flow of magic, while the power of creatures like werewolves is directly influenced by the phases of the moon. A steady flow of magic is far more useful to a witch, but the fae, who are not only magical creatures but also magic _users_ themselves, are the far superior class of familiars, because they have direct control over the spell. Now the fae have a long history of living in isolation, far away from all others, so, of course, witches turned to the second best choice—vampires.

“Vampires have an advantage over shifters, because your magic—” Castiel pointed a finger towards Dean’s chest, where he could feel the radiating warmth of Dean’s magical energy, ”—is directly linked to your lifeforce. Your thirst for blood is a direct consequence of that.”

“So you’re saying I’m awesome?” Dean asked, pointing at himself with both thumbs, a cocky grin playing at the edge of his lips.

“You’re strong. And back in the day, when witches and magical creatures were still trying to carve out their place in a fast-changing world where humans were gaining the upper hand, that made you _valuable_.”

Shoulders slumping, Dean shook his head. “Being valuable shouldn’t have given anyone the right to enslave us. Talking about me like I’m a _thing_ instead of a person shouldn’t have happened, period.”

“You’re right. It was a horrible practice and, by the time magical creatures had moved away from the human settlements and towns, completely redundant. I guess we were used to the power and the prestige by then, so the practice continued.”

“It continued until our grandfathers rose against you,” Dean said, frowning at the floor.

“Exactly. But shifters never had that kind of problem. Their numbers were, and still are, far greater than the vampires, and living with us came with many advantages, like protection and job opportunities that hiding amongst humans just didn’t provide. They chose to form a symbiotic relationship with us from the very start, even before the time that our history can remember,” Castiel said. “So you see, while we do have a bloody past between us, we weren’t total assholes to everyone, and since the time of the first war we’ve become better.”

Dean nodded slowly, taking a moment to absorb everything Castiel had just told him. Then he nodded. “I’m sorry you didn’t realize you were a bunch of dicks sooner.”

Despite the heaviness of their topic, Castiel chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.”

“And I’m sorry the Meetings didn’t go as well as you’d expected today,” Dean added. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion. He’d completely forgotten how they’d started this discussion in the first place. 

“Did I say that the Meetings didn’t go well?” He was fairly sure he’d only complained about Inias.

“I don’t know, dude. If they’d been a success I doubt you’d have come back to the castle sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” Castiel said, pouting and earning another low chuckle from Dean.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re a bright ray of sunlight that makes every room brighter just by walking into it,” Dean answered, sarcasm dripping from his every word, and yeah, okay, Castiel had to admit that _maybe_ he was sulking a bit. 

But finding a familiar was the last thing on his mind. He had far more important things to think about, like the prisoner he’d helped escape and was currently hiding in his room, or how said prisoner was too charming for his own good and quickly getting under Castiel’s skin. 

The chilly night air was a welcome change against Dean’s skin. Stepping on the window sill and crouching there for a moment, he let his gaze linger over the garden below him. The white lilies planted everywhere were beautiful, and the surface of the pond looked almost silver under the blue-tinged light of the moon. He could get used to this place, he thought. Except for the whole being a fugitive thing. 

“Are you gonna be standing there for a long time?” Cas grumbled behind him, and Dean grinned back at him.

“As if you don’t enjoy the view.”

Watching as Castiel’s face turned a bright shade of pink right before his eyes, Dean gave him a flirty wink. Having to be naked to transform had always seemed like a hassle to him, especially since finding out shifters didn’t have the same limitation, but spending more time with Cas and catching him checking out Dean’s body here and there was shedding new light on his powers. Walking around butt naked maybe wasn’t so bad after all.

“Alright, here I go.” Taking a deep breath, Dean jumped out the window, at the same time pulling his limbs close to his body to ease some of the discomfort of muscles and bones contorting and shifting under his changing skin to accommodate his transformation. 

With his wings billowed by the sweet-smelling breeze, Dean adjusted the angle of his body to lower himself closer to the ground and expertly maneuvered through plants and hedges. He knew Castiel was using his broom to head towards the gazebo at the back of the garden, but Dean wanted to circle the whole thing in search of easy prey. That steak had been delicious, but it hadn’t quite done the trick. The thirst was still fizzing inside his veins, his muscles screaming from being insufficiently fed for so long. Frogs and mice weren’t exactly satisfying either, but it was the best option he had, so he didn’t complain.

His second night of hunting was without a doubt far more successful than the first. Now that he’d found the trick in sneaking up on his prey, it was a lot easier to feed and also a lot faster. 

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later that he flew to a tree near the gazebo, grabbing hold of one of the branches and letting himself hang upside down. He was hidden among the shadows of the leaves, but he had a perfect view of the night sky and the full moon. It looked gigantic that night and so close that if Dean flew high enough he might actually touch it, but his eyes were drawn back to the ground, to a mop of dark hair bent over a book, surrounded by his fake fireflies. 

Castiel frowned at something he was reading, biting on his lower lip, and Dean’s heart melted in a puddle just at the sight of him. Their conversation earlier had soured his mood considerably, and even given him a new understanding of why his father and grandfather were so suspicious of the witches, but deep inside him, he found he didn’t care. 

He knew Cas. Maybe not long, but he knew him in all the ways that mattered. Cas had helped him escape, and hid him, and brought him food, and betrayed his friends for him. Yes, witches had been major pricks, but judging by Cas, even major pricks could learn to be decent people. And Cas wasn’t just decent. He was an angel, looking after Dean. 

Unable to stay away for long, Dean let go of the branch, twisting his body to catch the wind at the right angle and soaring towards the gazebo. The air was warmer the closer he got, the breeze gentler, making the hanging jasmine stems sway in a slow rhythm. He landed noiselessly behind Castiel, and yet the witch soon twisted around to pierce him with bright blue eyes. 

“Done for the night?” he asked, bookmarking the page he was on and putting it to the side.

“Oh, yeah, I’m stuffed.” Ignoring the heaviness of his limbs, Dean stepped closer and sat next to Castiel. “You have a spell going?”

“Two, actually,” Castiel answered, smiling sheepishly. “One to create the illusion around us, and one for the fireflies. I experimented a bit with my casting and the way I weave the magic through them, and they turned out to be quite the effective heaters.”

Dean opened his palm and held still while one of the fireflies wandered closer to him, hovering just over his hand. It’s orange glow was hot enough to feel almost uncomfortable so close to his skin, but it was also casting very pretty shadows on Castiel’s face, so he didn’t shoo it away. 

“Impressive,” he muttered, making Castiel gaze up from the firefly and lock eyes with him. “Your control over the spells is amazing, Cas.”

A deep, beautiful blush spread over Castiel’s face, but he didn’t look away. “They are not hard spells to maintain once you’ve cast them.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still amazing,” Dean said, not even bothering to feel ashamed for letting all his affection show in his words. “The illusion spell, is that the one you explained to me?”

“It is,” Castiel confirmed. “The higher you fly, the less you’ll be covered by it.”

“So if I wanted to try and fly above the trees, you’d have to make the spell bigger and stronger, correct?” Dean asked. He waited for Castiel to nod before continuing. “That would be more tiring for you?”

“Considerably so, yes.”

“And if you had a familiar, would that make the spell stronger?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, considering that. After a beat he said, “Possibly. It’s not like I have experience with it. But even without a familiar, I can handle the spell for a little while, if you’d like me to.”

“Ah, but the point is that I don’t want to exhaust you,” Dean said, feeling his smile stretching wider, a hint of teasing coloring his voice. “I was thinking you could join me tonight. The moon is beautiful up close.”

“Join you?” Castiel turned his face away to glance at the moon, and it was only then Dean realized they’d been leaning closer and closer together the whole time. 

Skin tingling, he pulled back. Castiel hadn’t answered him yet, and Dean could almost taste his hesitation in the atmosphere around them. 

“If you’re worried about the illusion, maybe I can help.”

“Help? How exactly?” Curious blue eyes turned back on him, making Dean’s knees feel weak for reasons completely unrelated to the heaviness that not drinking blood for a long time always came with. 

Dean swallowed. He’d been mulling the thought over since Cas had mentioned it earlier, and though he was a bit hesitant, he was also curious. Before he had time to chicken out, he took a deep breath and just went with it. “Maybe you could use _me_ as your familiar? To make the radius of your spell larger and the illusion… thicker, or stronger, or whatever it is you need to do.”

Castiel’s face washed blank with confusion for a second, like he couldn’t connect the dots to form the full picture of what Dean was suggesting.

“You want to… become my familiar?”

“What? No no no. That’s not what I was suggesting,” Dean hurried to say, feeling a blush searing through his cheeks like a horde of Cas’ fireflies had suddenly decided to take a nap on his face. “I was just saying, that since you guys have trial periods and stuff before the bonding ceremony, does that mean you could try channeling your magic through me? A one-time thing. So you can fly tonight. With me.”

Cas’ expression was unreadable as he stared straight at Dean. “I’ve never tried something like that before,” he said, voice low. 

Nervousness thrumming through his fingertips, Dean chuckled, trying to sound reassuring and nonchalant, but even to his ears it came out nervous. “Neither have I. There’s a first thing for everything. Do you know how to do it?”

“Theoretically.” Cas still didn’t look convinced.

“I mean it’s not using me as a familiar _strictly_ speaking,” Dean tried. “It’s just a friend helping another friend, like cooking together before we go on a picnic.”

“I guess,” Cas said, licking his lips nervously, and Dean’s eyes fell to follow the motion. “It sounds simple when you put it like that. It might be worth a try.”

“Right. How do we do this?”

Cas held out his hand, palm up, and the message was clear. Ignoring the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Dean took Cas’ hand, his hold firm. 

“Alright,” Cas exhaled and closed his eyes. A deep frown formed between his brows as he concentrated. 

For a moment nothing happened, and Dean wondered if maybe this wasn’t working after all, but then he felt it: a powerful flood of energy sizzled through him like his veins were filled with lightning and thunder. It washed through him, consuming him, swelling inside every crevice and corner of his body, until he was sure he was ready to burst, before slowing down, falling back until it was a river instead of a broken dam, and the soothing touch of something familiar brushed against his mind.

_Castiel,_ he realized breathlessly. 

The spell flowed through him, and he could feel the way Cas tweaked it, changed some parts and left others untouched, and the air pulsed with magic around them. When the spell already in place expanded, Dean felt it, and he knew with certainty that the illusion was stronger near the edges now. The fireflies around them moved, danced through the air, coming together and then spinning out, creating waves of light that made even fire pale in comparison to their glow. 

Something clicked into place, and the spell settled, heavy and steady, like a bridge when the keystone was finally in its place. Castiel’s hold on him relaxed without letting go, and Dean realized his grip had turned white-knuckled. As the magic settled inside him, he took a deep breath, trying to control his rapid heartbeat. He forced his fingers to ease their hold. 

Castiel opened his eyes slowly, pink across his cheeks and a soft smile blooming on his face. 

Dean’s chest filled with air again, lungs expanding like they’d forgotten what oxygen flowing through them was like. 

“Wow,” he said like the idiot he was. “That was incredible. I mean, I’ve seen Bobby performing a couple of simple ingredient spells, but this was… different. I’ve never felt something like that before.”

“Magic surely is an experience,” Castiel giggled, swaying forward like he was drunk. If he felt even a fraction of what Dean did, then drunk wasn’t too far off the mark. “But I’ve never cast something as powerful before either. That was amazing.”

“Did it work?”

Gazing out towards the sky, Castiel nodded. “The illusion spell goes higher than the castle now.”

“Shall we, then?” Dean suggested, not even bothering to suppress the stupid grin splitting his cheeks. 

Castiel’s eyes were shining when he turned to look at him. “Let’s go.” He gave Dean’s hand a final squeeze before letting go. He stood up and waved his hand in a ‘come here’ gesture. A second later, his broom was at his side, eagerly waiting for its master to get on. 

With the last fragments of magic still fizzling under his skin, Dean stretched his arms and his back. He gave Castiel a flirty wink, throwing a “First one to reach the top tower wins” at him, and he was off, bones cracking, muscles burning, and his body twisting into the shape of his bat form. 

Two strong flaps of his wings gave him a good head start before Castiel even had the chance to get on his broom.

There was laughter behind him, deep and rumbly, then the broom zoomed past him, sparks crackling behind the tail, Castiel bent over the handle low enough to be almost lying on it. His hair, tousled from the wind and his speed, was almost the same shade as the night sky. 

With an annoyed huff at Cas’ clearly unfair use of magic to gain the advantage, Dean spread his wings wider, flapping them faster. There was no way he was beating Cas, but he could still have fun. Screeching high enough to get Castiel’s attention, he shot directly up, forgetting all about the tower he’d set as their goal, and going for the clouds instead. From the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel slow down in confusion. then Cas changed his course, chasing after Dean. 

Dean let him almost catch up, before flipping over, letting gravity do its work and pull him back to the ground. He used his wings to guide his body in a spiral path downwards, a pleasant warmth spreading through him when he realized Cas was still following him. 

It was time to be more creative then.

With Dean leading and Cas following, they flew over the garden, spinning, twisting, whirling in endless, random patterns. They zig-zagged over the pond, Cas’ toes caressing the surface of the water, and they played hide and seek among the white lilies planted along the edges of the garden paths. 

Breathless and feeling his wings ready to give out, Dean gritted his teeth and flew the final stretch of distance that separated him from the gazebo. He ignored the benches, choosing to head for the roof instead. Transforming at the last minute, he landed, but he’d overexerted himself with all the flying that night and he stumbled forward, dropping on his hands and knees.

Cas landed just in front of him, worry evident on his face “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just fine. Lost my balance there.” Dean moved to sit on his heels, checking his hands which were scratched from the rough wood of the roof. Judging from the stinging pain on his knees, they hadn’t fared better.

With a quick gesture, Cas sent his broom away and carefully walked over to where Dean was, stepping among the openings the vines created. “Let me take a look.”

“It’s fine,” Dean insisted, but Cas was already pulling his palm close to his face, his fireflies summoned near them to shed some light.

“This doesn’t look fine,” Castiel said, a hint of accusation in his voice. He closed Dean’s hand between his palms, concentrating until a pulse of magic rippled up Dean’s arm. When Cas let go, the scratches were healed. He gestured for Dean to give him his other hand, and after another pulse of magic that left Dean’s fingers tingling, he moved to do the same on his knees. Satisfied by his work, Castiel dropped to sit next to Dean, supporting his weight on his elbows.

“Thanks, Cas, I appreciate it,” Dean said, turning his hands over and over to try and find any sign of damage. There was none left.

“I’m not the best with healing magic, but that much I can handle.” He gave Dean a soft smile before gazing out at the sky, stars and moon shining their light down on them unobstructed by clouds. 

“You were right,” Castiel said, sighing. “The moon is beautiful tonight.”

“Yeah, you should take midnight strolls on your broom more often.” 

There was a softness in Castiel’s face, the straight line of his nose washed in silver shadows, the curve of his mouth uneven as he turned to give Dean a crooked smile. “It’s the company that makes this special,” he said.

Locking eyes with Cas always took Dean’s breath away, but tonight even more so with the memory of the magic they’d created together, the memory of their _connection_ still fresh in his mind. The moon was getting low now, the night slowly but surely easing its hold. Soon the first hints of light would appear along the distant horizon, painting the sky in warmer shades. 

And all Dean wanted was to draw this moment out for a little while longer. 

Blue eyes searching green, Castiel frowned. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of tired. If I drew too much energy out of you before, I—”

“Cas, I promise you, you didn’t tire me out,” Dean was quick to reassure him. “If anything what we did was like a shot of energy straight into my veins. I’ve been a bit tired lately, you know?” He rolled his head from side to side, more an excuse to avoid Castiel’s searching gaze than relief from the stiffness of his neck. “I mean that steak was awesome, and I hunted until I was ready to burst, but it’s not the same as blood.”

“You… You’re not getting enough to eat?” Castiel asked, pushing himself up. He huffed, shaking his head. “Dean, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“It’s okay,” Dean said. “Dude, you’ve already done so much, and hunting really helps. Not drinking human blood just makes me a bit weaker, that’s all. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s why you fell before, isn’t it?” Castiel asked, mouth pressing into a thin line. He crawled closer to Dean, his hand going up to his collar and pulling it down to reveal the dip of his shoulder and part of his clavicle.

Instantly drawn to the sight of smooth skin, Dean didn’t realize what Cas was getting at until he heard Cas saying, “If you need to drink, then drink.”

An ice cold jolt went down Dean’s spine, derailing all his thoughts. Feed from Castiel? Dean would never… Would he? He’d never considered that before, especially with all the other crap they had to deal with since they’d met, but now, presented with the opportunity, the steady beat of Cas’ pulse impossible to ignore… Would he?

“Go on. You need it right?” Cas said, and it was only then that Dean realized his breathing had gotten heavier, each inhale longer, pulling in the intoxicating, sweet scent of Cas’ blood mixed with jasmine. 

It took all his willpower to tear his eyes away from Cas’ pulse point and up to his face. Instead of finding fear or apprehension, like Dean had expected, all he saw was determination, and something warmer, softer, that he really didn’t have the headspace to decipher at the moment.

He licked his lips, tongue feeling his fangs coming out just at the thought of it. 

“Dean, I want you to,” Cas whispered. 

They were leaning close again, at some point both having moved to close the distance between them. It was the easiest thing for Dean to dip his head, nuzzle his nose where shoulder met neck. Lips brushing over Cas’ skin in a way that made Cas shudder, Dean found the perfect spot. He opened his mouth, his fangs aching with need, and he closed the distance. Castiel gasped as Dean’s teeth sank into the sensitive spot, hands grabbing Dean’s shoulder hard. He wasn’t pushing him away, just holding on. 

Already dizzy with the delicious blood that filled his mouth, Dean could do nothing else but grab at the few shreds of control he had left. He wrapped his arms around Cas, pressing their chests together, Cas’ back arching, head dropping back to give Dean better access. Greedily drinking a final gulp of delicious blood, Dean sighed, feeling a warm glow spread through him, leaving him lightheaded and tingling all over.

He let his lips linger there for a moment more, tongue tracing the still bleeding spots where his fangs had broken the skin. He felt Castiel moving his head and his nose brushing over Dean’s hair briefly as Dean pulled away. Still wrapped around each other, they locked eyes, the blue in Castiel’s almost completely taken over by black. He looked as breathless as Dean felt, his breath hitting Dean’s skin in hot puffs with every exhale.

“An angel. You’re an angel, Cas,” Dean breathed in the space between them, unable to put all his gratitude and dizzy happiness in words that made sense. There was nothing else but the two of them, the moon, the night, the jasmine. 

Castiel’s gaze moved lower to Dean’s lips, and Dean could only imagine what he looked like, lips swollen and bloody, fangs still out and begging for more, a tight knot of anticipation in his gut. 

If anyone asked him later, he couldn’t have told them who moved first. All he knew was that suddenly there was no distance between them, Cas’ eyes were fluttering closed, dark eyelashes fanning over his pink cheekbones, and then they were kissing. A soft press of lips, almost shy. Cas moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder, tracing a blazing path with his fingertips all the way to the nape of his neck. 

Dean kissed Castiel and the world fell apart around them, time suspended between the final hours of the night and a moment before the world tilted on its axis, when nothing could ever be the same again. Their lips moved together, slow and careful and Dean held Cas tighter, every nerve ending in his body firing up like he’d been hit by lightning. It was almost like when they’d cast the spell together, except that had been like a sudden hurricane, all-consuming and uncontrollable, and this was a gentle summer storm, steady and soothing. 

Dean had never felt this way before. He held Cas, and he was home. 

He pulled back slightly with a sigh, intent on savouring the moment. He met Castiel’s gaze, so warm and beautiful and so… lost. 

A sinking feeling in his stomach, Dean held Cas’ face with both hands, taking in his appearance. He knew that look. The glazed over eyes, the shallow breaths, the dilated pupils. It was the same look all his ‘donors’ had when he used his charming glamour to get them to follow him to a dark corner, and the same serene expression that usually followed Dean persuading them to forget ever meeting him. 

Seemingly unaware of the bitter lump in the back of Dean’s throat, Castiel leaned in again, using his grip on Dean’s neck and shoulder to pull him closer.

“Cas, wait,” Dean managed to say, pushing him away. “Let’s… let’s stop, okay? This is a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Cas asked, frowning. His hold on Dean relaxed, but he didn’t let go. The only distance between them was the one Dean was creating, an arm against Cas’ chest pushing him away. 

Dean shook his head. “This is not you.”

“It is me,” Cas argued, trying to catch Dean’s eye. “Dean, it’s me. I thought… I thought this was something you wanted, too.”

“Trust me, Cas, this is what my _charm_ does, this is not your choice. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fed from you. I only managed to screw everything up.” 

It broke his heart, but if he didn’t do it now, he never would. 

Dean pushed Cas back, drawing away and putting a good, safe distance between them. Just seeing the broken look on Cas’ face, his bottom lip trembling while he fought to understand what Dean was telling him, was almost enough to make him change his mind. But Dean was going to be strong for both of them. He was going to protect Castiel, even if Dean himself was the danger. Maybe Cas didn’t see it now, but tomorrow, when the effect of the glamour had faded, he’d get it. He’d see that whatever was about to happen between them was a mistake. 

Away from Cas’ comforting body heat, the night breeze raised goosebumps on Dean’s naked skin. Swallowing past his dry throat, Dean shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll just go.”

“Dean, wait.” 

Cas hurried to stand up, but Dean was faster and determined not to let Cas stop him. If he did, he didn’t know whether he could really stop himself this time. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said one last time, stepping back, the familiar rush of adrenaline overtaking him as he transformed. He flew away into the night, knowing full well that on that gazebo roof, along with Cas, he was leaving his broken heart. 


	6. Chapter 6

The curtains were drawn, the blanket was pulled over Castiel’s head enough that his toes were sticking out, and the bed next to him was empty. It’d been hours since he last saw Dean, since the vampire had abandoned him on the gazebo roof and flown away while Castiel stood there doing nothing. 

He was still cursing himself for that. By the time he’d snapped out of his shock and realized what just happened, Dean had disappeared into the darkness. Even though Castiel had tried searching for him, flying with his broom low through the trees and around the castle grounds, searching for a small vampire in the night was like searching for a needle in a haystack. No amount of calling and trying to lure Dean out of whatever hiding spot he’d found had worked, until Castiel had to admit defeat and head back home with the caress of the first sun rays against his pale skin. He’d been sulking in bed ever since, loath to face the day or any other person. 

The worst part was the hollowness that Dean’s running away had left inside him. A black pit, large and all-consuming, drew his mind in an endless downward spiral. He’d been sure Dean wanted to kiss him, and the moment had seemed perfect. The moon, the fireflies, even Dean feeding from him had only made Castiel more sure of his decision to just go with it. Dean had been the one to show up _naked_ in Castiel’s room before they’d even introduced themselves for fuck’s sake, how could he have misread the situation?

Turning on his other side with a groan, Castiel grabbed his pillow and buried his head under it, but even that wasn’t enough to drown out the noise of the castle waking up around him. It was unfair that everyone could wake up this morning and go about their jobs completely unaware of Castiel’s heavy heart. Worst of all, even the people that he’d normally run to with his problems were a forbidden consolation for this particular issue. If they knew he’d been the one to free Dean…

Well, shit. 

Castiel shot up, throwing the blanket off him. He was an idiot. How could he forget the most important thing? Dean wasn’t just a guy Castiel had a crush on. He was a fugitive currently hiding on enemy grounds and now he didn’t even have Castiel’s help. He was out there, hiding away from the deadly sunlight, while the whole Royal Guard was looking for him. 

He scrambled out of bed, slipping on the pair of pants he’d thrown on the floor last night and quickly shooting a spell towards the floor to keep his balance, and rushed to his window to throw open the curtains. Heart beating loudly in his chest, he gazed outside. The first squads of the Guard were just now heading out for their morning rounds, which included searching for the escaped prisoner. Changing his focus, he turned his attention to the distant horizon, beyond the castle walls and the town down the hill, where a barely there ripple in the air marked the borders of the magical barrier that was keeping Dean captive in this place. 

Castiel rolled his shoulders back. While the sun was up, Dean was trapped in whatever hiding spot he’d found, which meant that if any of the guards came across him, he wasn’t only defenseless, but also unable to flee. Castiel wasn’t just going to stand around and wait for the inevitable to happen, he was going out there to try his damn hardest to find Dean. Besides, he had an advantage over the guards: he knew Dean, and maybe he could figure out where Dean would have headed last night. 

He dressed quickly, throwing on the same clothes as yesterday. He was just shoving his feet into his boots when there was a knock on his door, followed by the voice of the person that Castiel least wanted to see at the moment. 

“Cassie, are you in there?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Castiel said, quickly scanning the room. There was no trace of Dean that he could see, but his brother was a far more experienced witch, especially when it came to vampire matters, and the smallest hint of Dean’s presence could give them both away. 

“Can I come in for a second?”

“Just let me finish getting dressed.”

Okay, he had to calm down. A handful of people had been in his room these past few days even when Dean was hiding in here and no one suspected anything, not even familiars with a better nose than Michael. He could do this.

He took a deep, steadying breath, smoothed the lines of his jacket over his chest, and crossed the room to open the door.

Curious blue eyes narrowed in his direction. “Finally,” Michael said, shaking his head. “It feels like we haven’t seen your face around here for a few days.”

“I’ve been busy,” Castiel said, not exactly lying. 

Michael raised an eyebrow in his direction. He moved, clearly heading deeper into the room, and Castiel had no choice but to step to the side and let him. It was fine, he reminded himself. There was nothing incriminating in there.

“Too busy to even eat with us?” 

Going straight for the chair in front of Castiel’s desk, Michael took a seat, crossing his legs at the knees.

“I was checking up on Inias, and then there were the Meetings.You know how long those can last.” Again, not exactly lying.

“I imagine,” Michael said absently. In truth, Michael had met Dorothy when he was still too young to attend the Meetings, and after their official agreement and bonding ceremony, there was no need for him to attend them. It was just Castiel that was saddled with that responsibility. “How is Inias? I hope he’s adjusting to civilian life.”

“Uh, I wouldn’t call it adjusting.” Castiel winced. He wanted to plead Inias’ case, he really did, but this wasn’t the best moment. “He’s doing as well as you would expect.”

Michael hummed, eyes never leaving Castiel. “And what about the Meetings? Anything interesting happening?”

And there was the real reason Michael had decided to corner him. How was it possible that with everything Michael had to deal with at the moment—a diplomatic disaster, a missing prisoner, the threat of human hunters growing their numbers with every passing day—he still found time to torment Castiel about the Meetings? And this time there was no Dorothy to act as a buffer between the brothers. 

Shrugging, Castiel pushed his hands inside his pockets. “It’s still too early to know. This is only the second day and I have a lot of matches to meet.”

“But did anyone catch your eye?” Michael pressed. “I hear wolf familiars are strong, and they’d be perfect for accompanying you on your hikes.”

“Research expeditions,” Castiel corrected him. “And honestly, Michael, I don’t know. Most of the familiars I’ve met so far were okay, but it’s not like I can make a decision that might affect my whole life based on five-minute chats about our hobbies.”

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” Michael said. “Be open to talking with people. I know social situations can be… difficult for you, but you promised you’d give it your best shot. A familiar will only be good for you.”

“I know,” Castiel replied past his dry throat. Shit, he couldn’t lose any more time. A guard could find Dean at any moment. He had to find a way to send Michael away and then head out to start searching. “I _am_ trying.”

Doubt crossed Michael’s face, but before he could answer, another knock on the door interrupted him.

“Castiel, are you ready? Oh.” Hannah paused at the door, giving a quick bow in Michael’s direction. “Your Highness, I’m sorry for the intrusion. I didn’t realize you were here.”

Michael waved her away with the grace only years of practice brought to someone. “It’s fine. Cassie and I were just talking. You’re also attending the Familiar Meetings this year, aren’t you?”

“I am, your Highness.” Hannah straightened up, quickly glancing in Castiel’s direction. “That’s why I’m here, it’s time for us to head out. Today’s matches will begin in less than half an hour.”

“Of course, you’re right,” Michael said, standing up. He brushed invisible dust off his lapel, before nodding at both of them. “Don’t let me hold you up, then.” He turned to leave, acknowledging Hannah’s little bow when he passed by her. At the last second he paused and turned towards them again. “Be sure to go by the kitchen on your way out. I’m sure the cooks will be happy to give you snacks for the road. And Hannah, we’ll be happy to have you for dinner to discuss how the Meetings are going.”

“Your brother is very kind,” Hannah told Castiel, watching Michael walking away.

“I guess,” Castiel said. He was more preoccupied trying to figure out a way to ditch Hannah and the Meetings without Michael finding out about it. No matter how much he tried, he came up blank. There was no way he could convince Hannah to cover for him with Michael at dinner and not make her suspicious. He’d already made too many mistakes, involving his friends in this mess being the biggest one, and he’d run himself to a dead end.

“Alright then, let’s go,” Hannah said, leading the way. She glanced over her shoulder at Castiel. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, just had trouble sleeping last night,” Castiel said quickly, hurrying to catch up with her. 

She cocked her head to the side. “I guess everyone is a little on edge these days. I just hope they catch the vampire soon, so everything can go back to normal.”

Castiel doubted anything would go back to normal even if they really did manage to catch Dean, something which of course he’d do everything in his power to prevent. But even if he was sick to his stomach with worry, he had no choice but to put the search to the back of his mind for now and go with Hannah. In the long run it was the safest choice. 

The guy gave Castiel one last awkward smile, before gathering his stuff and getting up. Another one of his matches that had gone less than okay. Castiel should have been used to this—last year hadn’t been ideal either—but something was different today. He was… irritated in a way, too tired to deal with familiars trying to talk to him about stuff he didn’t care about. Had it not been for Michael’s bright idea to invite Hannah for dinner, Castiel wouldn’t even have been here.

He huffed, watching as a brunette glanced in his direction, then down to her notes, then back to him. He tilted his head to the side in a silent question, before gesturing at the chair across the table. Relief washing over her features, she came over, extending a hand to greet him.

“Hi, I’m Patience.”

“Castiel. How are you, Patience?”

“I’m good, thank you. A little intimidated, I admit,” she confessed with an uneasy smile. “Is this your first time too?”

“Second actually,” Castiel said, trying to come across as sympathetic as possible. His bad mood was no reason to ruin the experience for a newcomer. 

Nodding, she spread her papers on the table. “I see here that your area of study is herbology?”

“That is correct. I do independent research on Blood Marigolds and their properties up in the Royal Greenhouses.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive,” she said with genuine interest. “My grandma owns a shop downtown with ingredients for potions. Blood Marigolds are not used very often, except for some occasional obscure spells, but she says they are very powerful for such small plants.”

“She’s right,” Castiel said, and though someone being interested in his work was refreshing, talking about blood when he still had no idea where Dean was, or if he was safe, or where he’d find food come night, left a bitter feeling in the back of his mind. “Since their use fell out of favor after the wars, a lot of their properties have been left unexplored.”

If he was in a good mood, he could have talked about his research for hours without stopping. Not even Kevin had managed to sit through one of his monologues about potion work, let alone Charlie, Anna or Inias, who had little interest in magic outside of its practical, everyday uses. Patience, though, looked like she would have listened. 

“I always found herbs and plants fascinating,” she said, resting her chin on her fist. “My grandma is a familiar, like me, but she’s cast some pretty impressive spells with her ingredients throughout the years. I’d like to work on something similar, I think.” She straightened up, staring straight at Castiel. “You know what, I like you, Castiel. If you want, we could try a simple spell together?”

Something ugly twisted in Castiel’s stomach, though he couldn’t exactly tell why. “I don’t know,” he stammered, his mind going through a hundred excuses to get out of this situation.

“Just a test,” she insisted, holding out her hand much like Castiel had done last night with Dean. “Just to see if it’s going to work.”

Reluctantly, and despite the lurching of his stomach, Castiel took her hand. He found the spark of magic inside him, calling it forward and trying to channel it through their connected hands, just a quick simple spell would do, but… nothing. He frowned, eyeing the pencil he had intended to levitate and tried again, but the pencil refused to move.

“Oh,” she said, snatching her hand back like she’d been burned. “I don’t get it. If you already have a familiar, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t have a familiar,” Castiel said, shaking his head in confusion. He should have been able to draw from her without problem. He certainly had no problem drawing from Dean when they tried together. 

Oh.

_Oh._

But it should have been impossible, Castiel thought, shooting out of his seat. 

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he told Patience, gathering his stuff in a hurry. Throwing his coat on, he turned to her one last time. “Um, it was nice to meet you, though, and I hope you find a witch you get along with.”

Several pairs of eyes turned to follow him as he practically ran out of the room, Hannah’s included, but Castiel couldn’t stay there any longer. If the thought that had crossed his mind was true, he’d screwed up big time, and not just because Dean had rejected him. Or maybe precisely because Dean had rejected him. 

It shouldn’t have been possible, he chanted in his head, taking the stairs up to the university library two at a time. Performing a spell together was a far cry from a bonding ceremony, and it _really_ shouldn’t have been possible. 

Dean couldn’t be his familiar now, could he?

Sam stood hidden in the safety the shadows provided, while the leaves above his head moved gently with the warm breeze. Across the yard, Eileen went about her morning chores bathed in sunlight. She had a basket of fruit braced against her hip as she reached up to the apple tree. The song she was humming was a familiar tune popular among humans lately.

She looked very carefree, Sam observed, his mood dampening further. Not a worry in the world, not about Dean still missing, not about the Men of Letters becoming more and more restless, not about John’s control over his vampires slipping with every passing day that he did nothing. Being a human was far easier than being a vampire. She’d never know what overwhelming thirst felt like, she’d never have to go about her life looking over her shoulder, and she’d certainly never have to live in fear of something so simple as the sun. She was as far away from Sam as the earth from the dark side of the moon. As she should be. Being in the light was safer for her. Sam’s longing didn’t matter when being close to him and his world could easily mean a death sentence for her. 

Further shrouding himself in the shadows, Sam sighed. 

As if sensing his presence, Eileen turned around, searching the corners of the inner courtyard. Sam could pinpoint exactly the moment she spotted him, eyes softening as she placed her basket on a rock nearby and crossed the yard to meet him under the olive tree. 

“It isn’t often we see you down here, Sam, especially these days,” she said, dusting her hands off on her apron. She was still standing where the sun could reach her, he noticed.

The halls around the yard were empty, but Sam could still hear the steps of the dozens of vampires gathered in their household, their whispered talk buzzing around them. These days his house felt more like a camp than a home. 

“I’m sorry for all the visitors,” he said, keeping a careful distance, grateful for the walls of the inner yard allowing him to wander out in the garden in the middle of the day. It was the only way for him to meet her in the middle. “I know it makes work harder for you guys.”

“We’re always happy to serve your father and his friends, Sam, you know that,” she told him, her kind, hesitant smile making his heart skip a beat. “Though, just between us, not everyone is as nice as you and your brother are with people like us.”

Sam frowned, trying to think of who Eileen might mean. With the amount of vampires coming and going it could have been anyone harassing the servants. 

“If our guests are causing trouble you should let us know. We expect them to show our servants the same respect we show you.” 

The word servant sounded wrong to his ears. Eileen was so much more than that, but his feelings had to remain a well-kept secret along with his nature. Dean might have teased him endlessly, but even his older brother knew better than to get mixed up with a human for anything more than a night of fun. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Eileen, it was that even someone as kind as her would be horrified if she knew what Sam was snacking on every night. 

Eileen worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I wouldn’t call it trouble, and it’s more your extended family than your other guests.”

“Our extended family?”

“Your cousins. A lot of the girls are weary of them, and they avoid cleaning the Vladsari Corridor for that reason,” she said, nodding with her head in the direction of one of the many entrances to the Corridor in their house. “Now, I’m not one to pay attention to gossip, you know that, but…”

She searched Sam’s eyes, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue, but then she said, “I was walking home last night, and the Corridor is the fastest way back to my neighborhood. I never thought it could be dangerous, your father’s men are always patrolling after all, but last night it was weirdly… empty. I had this weird feeling that I was being watched so I tried to hurry along, I turned a corner and almost came face to face with Christian.” She took a shaky breath, the memory clearly upsetting her. “He had this weird look on his face, and he told me I shouldn’t be walking alone in the dark. Anything could happen to a girl, he said, and he offered to accompany me home. I told him no, but then a handful of his friends appeared, blocking my path. And I’m not scared easily, Sam, I’m really not, but I could tell they didn’t have good intentions.”

“What happened?” Sam demanded, a sense of foreboding settling heavy over him, almost as strong as the fury that was quickly rising up in his chest just at the idea of any of Christian’s friends laying a finger on Eileen. 

She shook her head, face pale and drawn. “Nothing. But only because Master Campbell happened to be walking by at that moment. He took a look at the lot of them and ordered them back to their houses. I don’t want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.”

Sam released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His hands itched to reach and touch her, comfort her in any way he could, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, wrapping her hands around herself despite the warm sun rays hitting her. “I was lucky, but others might not be.”

“Look, just let me talk to Christian,” Sam pleaded, dizzy with the implications of the story Eileen had just shared with him. 

Could the rogue vampires be part of his own family? He’d never liked Christian’s friends, but he hadn’t realized they could be dragging his cousin into trouble. It wasn’t just John’s control on their people that was slipping, it was Grandpa’s control on their family that was weakening, and that was the scariest thought. Where John had always been the Alpha that took care of business, Grandpa had been the vampire to hold their family together, but if even that bond was failing… 

They were in bigger trouble than any of them had realized.

Sam anxiously waited for night to fall. He knew that handling this on his own wasn’t a wise choice—Dean would have ripped him a new one if he knew what he was planning to do—but he needed proof before going to his father. He believed Eileen, but John was a busy man, even more so these days with Dean’s situation, and not throwing another problem at him without being absolutely sure felt like the right decision. 

Ignoring the way his stomach tightened every time he thought of his brother, Sam pulled his jacket on. Christian was always the type of vampire that preferred sleeping through the day, so with sunset almost upon them, he was bound to get up at any moment. All Sam had to do was hide somewhere close to Christian’s house and wait to see what happened. If he really was involved in anything sketchy, sooner or later he’d lead Sam right to it. 

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Be careful on your way, Mick. You know the nightmares moving among the shadows.”

Mick raised his hand in a goodbye, before turning to hurry down the street. The door creaked close behind him, muffling the conversations of the people still left inside. It’d been one of the shortest Men of Letters meetings he’d ever attended, lasting less than two hours. Then again, it wasn’t like they had anything to talk about that day. All the big decisions had already been made, their men had prepared and left two days ago, and it was just the older members and the secretaries left to hold down the fort. 

Oh, and the Elder of course. But the Elder never left the city, anyway. 

Tucking his books under his armpits, Mick wondered if maybe he should find a quiet tavern to spend the couple of hours he had before he usually went to bed. He had studying to catch up on of course, but it’d been so long since he did something other than studying and working for the Men of Letters, something _fun_ , that the temptation was too great to pass up.

He took the main roads leading to the plaza by the river, where all the taverns were, making sure to stay close to the gas fueled streetlights that lined the street. Staying close to the light was a means of survival these days, and sometimes even that wasn’t enough to protect them from the horrors lurking in the dark. He took a turn, passing under the Vladsari Corridor where it ran over the street to connect the houses on either side, and continued parallel to the river. 

He was almost at the bridge that would take him to the plaza, when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Hair on his nape rising, Mick slowed his steps, using his peripheral vision to follow the silhouette that was creeping along the wall. Whoever it was, they were purposefully staying hidden in the shadows, but Mick noticed their attention wasn’t on him. It was on the entrance of a dark alley passing between two buildings.

Heart pounding in his ears, Mick tried to change his route to get closer to the figure without being noticed. He tightened his hold on the silver knife in his pocket. He’d never come across a vampire before, but he was a Man of Letters, a fourth generation legacy. This was what he’d been trained to do, what he’d been born to do.

The figure, still seemingly unaware of Mick’s presence, slid along the wall, their path bringing them on the periphery of a streetlight’s halo. Their face was illuminated for just a second, but it was enough for him to recognize the person. 

Mick froze in his tracks. What was Sam Winchester doing out in the dark? Didn’t he know that it was dangerous to be alone in secluded alleys?

Forgetting all about the tavern he was supposed to go to, Mick turned towards Sam, but at the last moment something stopped him. Instead of calling out to his friend, Mick pulled away. He waited until Sam walked into the alley before following him, keeping in the shadows and back enough that he could still see the outline of his broad shoulders through the darkness, but Sam wouldn’t be able to see him if he turned. His training took over, guiding his steps silently along the paved street, forcing his heartbeat to slow down so that a vampire’s sensitive ears wouldn’t catch it.

Sam himself also seemed careful. He kept stopping and waiting, before starting down the alley after a few seconds. All his attention, though, was in front of him. 

Just ahead of them, the alley turned, becoming narrower and the buildings around it grew taller. Sam hesitated only a second, and Mick not even for a second, before going deeper. There was something weird going on here, and it was his duty to find out what it was.

A scream slashed through the dark, high and shrill, far enough down the alley that Mick doubted anyone on the main road would hear it. His eyes flicked to the windows of the houses and buildings, but nothing moved behind the curtains and blinds. Either the people living there hadn’t heard the scream, or they’d heard so many of them already that there was no point in reacting. 

Sam darted out of the shadows, moving so fast that he was only a blur as he ran down the alley. Curiosity winning out over his worry, Mick went after him, following him until they saw where the alley led to a dead end. A brick wall stood almost twice as tall as them, connecting the buildings on either side of the alley, but beyond that was the night sky, clear of clouds. The moon and the stars were shining their light down on one corner of the alley, and when Mick moved so Sam’s figure wasn’t blocking his view, he saw another figure, a man maybe, curled over the smaller, frail body of a woman. 

The man moved, and her head fell back to reveal her bloody throat, her eyes glazed over as she stared into the night. 

A vampire, Mick realized. On instinct, he stepped back, taking a sharp breath. 

Ahead of him, Sam’s head snapped around, and even in the dark, Mick could see his eyes landing on him. The next second, Mick was being slammed against a wall further down the alley, away from the vampire’s sight and hearing, a large palm over his mouth. 

With an arm across Mick’s chest to keep him from moving, Sam stood tall and imposing, barely inches away from Mick.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, brows drawing together in a deep frown.

Unable to use his mouth to produce any coherent sound, Mick shook his head, eyes frantically pointing to the direction they’d just come from. A vampire. A real vampire was feeding on a poor woman so close to them, and they were letting it. Pulse speeding up, he tried to shove away, but it was like trying to knock down a wall with his bare hands. Sam’s hold on him was like iron.

“Look, I’m going to let you go, but don’t scream,” Sam warned. He hesitated, eyes searching Mick’s face for a second before his palm dropped.

Mick took a deep breath, his mind going over every time he’d seen Sam since they’d met—always sitting in the seats away from the windows, coming and going with a carriage that dropped him off inside the university’s stables, avoiding the corridors with the tall windows. Shit.

Shitshitshit _shit_.

How could he not have seen it before?

Sam Winchester was a vampire, and Mick had just walked in on him and his friend hunting for the night. 

Panic clawing its way out of his chest, Mick grabbed Sam’s hand that was pinning him to the wall, a wheezing sound escaping his lips. Immediately Sam brought his palm over Mick’s mouth again, shushing him, but at least his hold relaxed a bit.

“Breathe with me,” Sam instructed, taking an exaggerated breath, holding it in, and then releasing it. “I’m going to explain everything, but first we have to get out of here before Christian finds us.”

He took another deep breath, and this time Mick mimicked him, forcing his ribcage to expand to accomodate all the oxygen rushing inside his lungs. His pulse was beating like a drum in his ears, and he was sure Sam could hear it. How he ever managed to sneak up on him was a miracle. When Sam removed his hand, Mick swallowed and nodded. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Sam released Mick, only to grab his arm and lead him away from the alley where the vampire was. With a brisk pace, they headed towards a well-lit plaza that in the morning was one of the town’s bustling markets. But at night it was deserted, and the few people passing by did so with their heads bowed and shoulders hunched. It was a place where no one would overhear their conversation, and yet Mick didn’t feel as isolated as before. Freedom was a scream away.

“You’re a vampire,” Mick gasped almost as soon as Sam stopped walking and spun around to face him. “All this time… I don’t understand.”

“Don’t freak out. It’s not what it looks like.” Sam raised his hands up in a gesture that was probably meant to soothe, but did more to draw attention to how much larger Sam was than Mick. 

“It’s not what it looks like?” Mick said, a hysterical chuckle escaping him. “I just saw you feeding on a poor woman, how can it not be what it looks like?”

“No, Mick, that’s not what you saw,” Sam said, taking a half-step forward. His voice dropped, and when he met Mick’s gaze, his eyes were shining in a weird, hypnotizing way. “Calm down,” he commanded. 

As if they had a mind of their own, Mick’s muscles relaxed, shoulders dropping, heart rate slowing down. There was a slight fog tickling the edge of his mind, but his thoughts were far clearer now than the panic-induced mess they’d been before. 

“You saw _Christian_ feeding on a human,” Sam said, tone calm and measured. “You saw me following him. I’m not like him. I only want to help you.”

“You only want to help me,” Mick repeated, the exact meaning of the words flying way beyond his understanding, but the sound of them soothing nonetheless.

“You’re not going to scream.”

“I’m not going to scream.”

“Good,” Sam said, taking a step back and leaning away.

Mick almost stumbled forward, like an invisible hand that’d been holding him up suddenly disappeared. What the hell was going on?

Checking around them, Sam pushed his hands in his pockets. “I’m a vampire,” he said. “My whole family is, a lot of my friends are, too, but we’re not hurting people.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you’re hurting people, don’t you know how many vampire attacks have happened in the past few months? Vampires feed on humans, and it’s my job, it’s my duty to stop them—stop _you._ ”

Mick’s hand was itching to reach for the silver knife in his pocket, but a tiny voice in the back of his head stopped him. Sam only wanted to help him, and he was not going to freak out.

“Okay, Mick, I need you to think. How long have you known me? Hell, how long has my family lived in this city? For generations, right? It was my ancestors that built the Vladsari Corridor, my ancestors that helped the city prosper through trade and building. Vampires have been here all along and we’ve never attacked humans like that before. We’re not the enemy,” Sam insisted. 

“That Christian guy looked like the enemy,” Mick said, unwilling to let go of the apprehension tightening inside his chest. 

“There are rogue vampires,” Sam explained, lips becoming a thin line. “We’ve been trying to track them down and stop them, just like you and the Men of Letters have. Everything you thought you knew about vampires is wrong. We were not defeated in the Vampire-Witch Wars, we are not living as familiars in a far away place in the north, and we’re not hurting people.” He winced. “Well, not most of us.”

“What you’re trying to say is that the vampires we’re hunting have been living under our noses all along?” Mick was still trying to catch up with all the revelations. Everything he knew about the magical world around them had to shift and fit into new places. Vampires in their city, living with them, going to school with them, maybe even marrying them. Holding onto the weird calmness inside him, he tried to think this through clearly. Sam was his friend, and for all the horrific things he’d seen tonight, he hadn’t seen Sam attacking that woman. If he was trying to stop the attacks, too, then maybe Mick had made a powerful ally instead of a formidable enemy, one who would surely be useful in their upcoming— 

Well, shit.

“Did you just say that vampires don’t live with witches?” 

Sam shook his head. “No, Mick. They’ve been our enemies for over a century. The only reason for us to even consider talking with them is because of the hunters rising among humans.”

“Well, that’s very inconvenient,” Mick said, clearing his throat. “Because the Men of Letters sent soldiers up north to deal with both vampires and witches at the same time.”

“Wait, what?” Sam’s mouth fell open before he was able to pull himself together again. “You have men ready to attack the witches? Mick, you can’t let them.”

“It was the logical solution in our mind, Sam. We’re getting attacked by vampires, vampires are controlled by witches, so we took the war to them.”

“But we’re not controlled by witches, and there are no vampires living with them,” Sam said, desperation laced through his every word. “It’s just the witches up there, and they had nothing to do with the vampire attacks, just like the majority of the vampires had nothing to do with the attacks. You’ll be hurting innocent people. Can’t you see it? You have to stop them.”

“Sam, they already left two days ago. They should be there by tomorrow; there’s nothing I can do.” And even if they hadn’t left, Mick was only a secretary. He had no power over the Elder’s decisions. 

Sam grabbed his arms, fingers digging into muscle painfully, and shook him. “No, Mick. Dean is there. If the Men of Letters attack, he’ll be directly in their line of fire. We have to do something.”

“Listen,” Mick said, jerking away from Sam’s hold. He was sure that Sam was strong enough to stop him, but he didn’t. “I’ll try and talk to the Elder about postponing the attack until we have more information. I’ll have to tell them about vampires living in the city with us, but it should buy us some time.”

“Do it,” Sam said without hesitation. He faced away, checkinging the clock in the middle of the plaza for the time. “I’ll go back home and let Dad know. He should be able to send a message to the witches for them to prepare. I’ll meet you at the university stables at first light, okay?”

“You can go out in the light?” Mick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have my ways of bypassing my weaknesses.” Sam waved a hand absently. “But we can’t waste any time. Go.”

There was something in his tone of voice that didn’t leave room for argument. Mick had made a one-eighty and was walking away before the full meaning of what he’d just agreed to dawned on him. 

Well, there was no taking it back now, he thought, a shiver going down his spine at the prospect of disobeying Sam. He’d have to figure out a way to convince the Elder to stop the attack.

Mick knocked on the heavy wooden door, but only silence answered him. Not willing to give up so easily, he tried again, harder this time, and again, using his whole palm to bang on the door and make the most noise he could.

“Hey, it’s Mick. It’s an emergency,” he called out, as loud as he dared.

“For God’s sake, Mick. Have you lost your mind?” The door swung open to reveal the irritated face of one of the Elder’s servants. “Have you seen what time it is?”

“I have to speak to the Elder,” Mick said, pushing inside without waiting for an invitation. “It’s Men of Letters business.”

The servant eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but then he begrudgingly started up the stairs, instructing him to wait until he was called for. Mick stood by the grand staircase of the old, narrow manor, buzzing with anxiety. When he was called upstairs to the Elder’s office, he took the steps two at a time, hurriedly fixing his clothes and hair to make sure his appearance wasn’t too rumpled.

“Mick Davies,” the Elder said, leaning back against her chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit at such an ungodly hour?”

“I have urgent news,” Mick said, still breathless after running all the way here from the plaza where he’d left Sam. “We’ve made a mistake. The vampires are not in any alliance with the witches. They’re here, and they live among us.”

The only indication that the news Mick had just delivered was interesting to the Elder was a raised eyebrow. “And how would you know?” 

“I saw one of the vampires tonight. I caught him feeding on a poor woman and I cornered him. He told me he knew of our plan to attack the witches and then laughed in my face for making a mistake. They don’t care what happens to the witches, there’s as much animosity between them as there is with us.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily, like he’d been practising his lines all the way here. There was the niggling feeling that it wasn’t something he’d come up with so readily, but the need to make the Elder call their men back was strong, and it pushed all other thoughts to the back of his mind.

“So what you’re saying is that I’ve sent my soldiers to burn the witch city to the ground, but that won’t solve our vampire infestation problem?” the Elder asked, threading her fingers in front of her. 

“The vampires are among us, they have been for a long time. We have to gather all our power back here and protect our people.”

“Maybe,” the Elder said standing up. She turned to face the flames emanating from the fireplace behind her desk, hands clasped behind her back. “Or maybe we go ahead with the original plan. The vampires are our primary goal, but the witches are just as dangerous as them. We can take advantage of this situation. If the vampires think all of our power is out of the city, they’ll be reckless. It’ll be easier to draw them out and find out their identities, and once our men are back, we take them down, too.”

Mick could feel his blood running cold. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be buying some time for Sam, not causing more trouble for him. “Professor Hess, I think you need to think this through,” he tried. “There’s no reason to injure and lose men in an attack on the witches that is needless.”

“You’re an excellent student, Mr. Davies,” the Elder said, turning her cold eyes on him. “But you’re too soft for a Man of Letters. This is still an opportunity to take down both our enemies, and I’m not going to waste it. Now I suggest you keep to your studies, and as for the rest, you do as you are told.”

“Professor,” Mick stuttered out, his brain failing to provide another argument but useless pleading.

“That’s all, Mr. Davies,” the Elder said, waving him away. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Mick was quickly escorted outside after that, the heavy door closing behind him without giving him time to plead his case again. His only hope now was that Sam had more success than him. Checking his watch and realizing he still had several hours before dawn, he sighed. There was nothing else for him to do but head towards the university and wait for Sam.

Sam was breathless by the time he made it back to his house. For once, it was mostly silent, their servants left for the night and the vampires that had swarmed their rooms for the past few days all vanished. As Sam hurried along their corridors opening door after door, he realized that it wasn’t just the visiting vampires that had vanished. His father was nowhere to be found either. 

Cursing under his breath, Sam turned around, heading for Bobby’s office. If he couldn’t find the Alpha, then his right-hand man would have to do. He was about to open the door when his grandfather calling him stopped him short.

“Sam, you’re still here?”

“Grandpa, thank God,” Sam said, hurrying to meet him. Finally someone who would know what to do. “Where is everyone?”

“At the Council House. John called for an emergency meeting. Apparently our spies sent back more news,” Samuel said,. Then, noticing Sam perking up at the mention of news, he quickly added, “Still nothing on Dean, I’m afraid.”

Huffing, Sam pushed down his disappointment. There were other, more urgent problems to deal with right now. “We have a problem. Two problems actually, but this is the more urgent one,” he said. “The Men of Letters are preparing an attack on the witches. They’ve already left and could be arriving there at any moment.”

“And where did you hear that?” Samuel asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“I— I have a friend from the university. He’s a Man of Letters, and I came across him tonight. He told me everything after he caught one of the rogue vampires attacking a woman.” 

His grandfather’s hold on his walking stick visibly tightens. “A Man of Letters saw one of the rogue vampires? Did he catch them?”

“No, I stopped him, but I had to tell him the truth about us,” Sam explained. “He knows we’re living in the town and that we’re harmless. He promised to try to stop the Men of Letters from attacking the witches.”

“That is quite the mess you found yourself in tonight,” Samuel said, voice tight. “And the second problem?”

“I know who the rogue vampires are,” Sam said in a rush. Then he winced. “Or at least I know one of them, but you’re not going to like it. It’s Christian, Grandpa.”

Samuel’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring. He had to take a deep breath before saying, “Our Christian? Are you sure?”

“I saw him,” Sam said. “One of our servants told me a worrying story about him, so I followed him and caught him in the act. We have to tell Dad as soon as possible. If we stop the rogue vampires, we can find a solution with both the Men of Letters and the witches before we go to another all-out war.”

“You’re right. We have to go to your father immediately,” Samuel agreed, stepping to the side to let Sam lead the way towards the Vladsari Corridor.

“If we hurry we might be able to send a message to the witches tonight,” Sam said, stepping past his grandfather. “Maybe that will convince them that Dean didn’t—”

There was an explosion of pain on the back of his head. For a second, all Sam could see was white spots, his head throbbing and something wet going down the nape of his neck. Then his vision darkened around the edges, the blackness taking over his whole body, and he collapsed.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel was on the verge of a panic attack. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but according to every book he’d read, he and Dean were bound as witch and familiar. 

After skipping out on the second day of Meetings, Castiel had returned home in a daze, his thoughts in turmoil, but most of all, a deep fear slithering in his gut for Dean. He’d been upset just because Castiel had kissed him, what would he do when he found out about this turn of events? More importantly,  _ how _ would Castiel find him to break the news to him? He knew there was a way to trace his familiar, he’d seen Michael doing it a few times, but it didn’t involve any spell he knew or could find in his books, and asking wasn’t an option if he didn’t want to raise suspicions.

He had to do it the old-fashioned way. As soon as he dropped the books he’d borrowed from the library in his room, he was going out to start searching again, hoping that he’d do the impossible and find Dean faster than the Royal Guard.

“Castiel, there you are, we’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Dorothy said, appearing from an open door. “Your friend, Hannah, is already here.”

Shit. Castiel had completely forgotten about dinner with Hannah, and from where he stood, there was no way out of it. Not unless he was willing to let Hannah and Michael talk without supervision.

“I’ll take this to my room and I’ll be right down,” he said, hurrying upstairs. Hannah knew too much, and she’d witnessed Castiel abandoning the Familiar Meetings halfway through today. There was no way he was allowing her and Michael to talk without him there to steer the conversation away from dangerous topics. He’d have to suck it up and search for Dean later. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without sleep though, he thought, trying to remember when he last got some proper rest. It felt like way too long ago.

Dean crept out of the tree hollow he’d hidden in during the day. It’d been several hours since the sun hid behind the distant mountains, but he knew that the guards would be patrolling more often now, expecting him to be out of his hiding spot during the night. 

They weren’t wrong. Dean couldn’t exactly hole up in a tree for the foreseeable future, waiting for the slim chance his dad marched up to the castle to save him, but he wasn’t an idiot either. Castiel’s room had a nice view of the castle grounds, so Dean had been able to peek outside to learn the schedule of the patrols. While he’d been hiding last night, he’d also tried to memorize the times they were passing by the part of the woods he’d hidden in. It wasn’t too close to the castle, but he’d made sure to stay clear of the magical barrier, as Castiel had said that was where the security was strictest. Sticking to hunting during the last hour of the night seemed like the safest choice now that Cas wasn’t there to help him.

At the memory of Cas and the last time Dean saw him, his heart ached like a wound that started bleeding all over again. He didn’t have time to deal with that, though. Stomach rumbling, he grabbed onto the nearby branch with his feet and let himself hang upside down. When it came to dinner his options were limited, but he’d make do with what he had.

He was quick and efficient, ending the night with a tally of two mice and three lizards. It was just enough food to stop his hunger, but at least his thirst was still sated from the blood he’d drank yesterday. Thinking of the blood inevitably led to thinking of Cas again, and his mood soured. Every second thought he had was about Cas, and honestly, it would have been so much easier to focus on his  _ real _ problems—like being hunted—if Cas could just let him go.

It wasn’t just the guards looking for him. Dean had heard Castiel searching for him for the second night in a row and had made sure to stay clear from the path the witch followed. He wasn’t ready to deal with Cas just yet, no matter how much he longed to run back to the room up the tower, where he could fall asleep with Cas next to him. Things were just too confusing. 

He drifted in and out of sleep for several hours, waking up every now and then to voices nearby, his heart pounding in his chest. The guards wandered around the woods, idly chatting like they’d given up on really searching for him and were mostly half-heartedly following orders at that point, but Dean cowered away each time all the same. All it took was for one familiar to come looking in their dog-form and it was over. He had no chance of fighting off a squad of guards at night, let alone in the middle of the day. 

It was late afternoon when he finally gave up on trying to sleep—he was too strung up to get any kind of real rest—when he heard another set of footsteps around the forest, just one person this time. Interest piqued—guards were never alone in this part of the woods, and Dean hadn’t seen any other witches or familiars so far—he dared to scoot closer to the opening of the hole, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. 

The man was several yards away from the tree he was using as his hiding spot, but Dean could still make out his broad form and the heavy axe he had resting on one shoulder. From his other shoulder hung a big sack. A lumberjack, Dean concluded, sighing in relief, but then the man stopped dead in his tracks, raising his head curiously. He—well shit, was Dean actually seeing this?—he sniffed the air, frowning.

Dean froze, willing his heart to slow down. He’d escaped the guards for so long, surely just one normal citizen wouldn’t be a problem.

The man turned and stared straight at him. A few big strides, and the burly lumberjack was standing right in front of the tree. Dean was trapped, there was nowhere for him to go, and he couldn’t try escaping without being exposed to the sunlight. This was the end of the line for him.

“You can come out,” the man said in a gravelly voice. “I won’t hurt you.”

As if. Dean wasn’t born yesterday. He walked away from the opening until his back hit solid wood and there was nowhere else to go. He couldn’t see the man anymore—his tree hollow was higher than the man’s head—but he could hear him moving, could hear his boots on the fallen trees and sticks. Then a shadow covered the entrance of the hole, darkness enveloped Dean, and a pair of blue eyes peered straight at him.

“Don’t worry, little guy,” he said, clearly trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “Look, I’m not even a witch.” Gold took over his eyes, making them shine like stars in the night sky. 

Yeah, totally not threatening, Dean thought, a shrill, panicked cry rising in the back of his throat.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said the werewolf. “I promise I’m a good guy. I won’t eat you or anything, I just want to help you. A guy like you can get in a lot of problems in a place like this.”

That was an understatement. Dean was already in trouble, and coming across a werewolf was now his biggest concern.

“Come on, I know I look scary, but I promise you I won’t hurt you,” the guy insisted, taking a step back to let some light inside. 

Hesitantly, Dean crawled forward, careful to go only as far as the shadows allowed him. He didn’t trust the werewolf, but he trusted the witches even less, and he knew that they weren’t exactly fond of werewolves. This could be an enemy-of-my-enemy situation, and if worse came to worst, Dean would dare flying in the sunlight for a couple of minutes to get away. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

He stood right at the line where the light ended and let out a small shriek, hoping the guy would catch on to what he was trying to say. Thankfully, the guy was smart.

“Oh, the light’s bothering you. Wait, I’ll create a cover for you to get out.” 

There was a thump as the man jumped off whatever rock he’d used to climb up to the hole, then a lot of shuffling around.

“I have a cape you can use while you’re out here,” the man called from below, his voice a little louder. “I’ll leave it on the ground for you.”

The man stood up so Dean could see him through the hole, his arms raised above his head and holding out an old but clean sheet over the hole to block the sunlight.

“There you go,” the man said as Dean crawled out of the hole and flapped his wings to get to the ground. 

As promised, a cape was waiting for him there, and Dean wasted no time slithering under it. When he transformed, the cape was over his head and covering his face, but he quickly fixed it, tying the strings around his waist and collarbone, then pulling the hood over his head.

The man hummed before jumping down from the rock and folding the sheet in his hands. He pushed it back in his sack, glancing up at Dean with a friendly smile. “Name’s Benny.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said, not sure he wanted to share his name with a stranger. 

Benny didn’t comment on Dean’s answer though. Instead, he dropped to sit on his heels, back against the tree trunk. “I get it you’re in trouble?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Dean answered carefully. Could it be that Benny didn’t know of the escaped prisoner/murderer that everyone thought Dean was? If so, then he must have lived in a cave or something.

Benny nodded, taking Dean in. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air once again, and his shoulders tensed. “I take it you’re hiding from a witch?” There was something guarded about his words that put Dean on edge, like the man was tiptoeing around what he really wanted to ask.

“More like  _ every _ witch. If it weren’t for that stupid barrier I’d have already skipped town.”

“It’s very annoying,” Benny agreed with a huff. “Can’t even leave this place without papers and even then only through designated spots and after you’ve been thoroughly searched. Something about a prisoner escaping, or so my wife hears from the witches down in the town. I don’t go there much so I don’t know any of the details.” He shook his head, an amused grin on his face as he met Dean’s panicked eyes. “It’s ridiculous if you ask me. It’s not like I could hide a prisoner under my clothes, could I?”

So Benny was a werewolf and his wife a… a witch, Dean guessed from context. Lucky for Dean, he hadn’t heard that the prisoner was a vampire, otherwise they probably wouldn’t be having this conversation now.

“You know, if you need a place to hide from your witch until the barrier goes down,” Benny continued, eyeing Dean carefully.

“Thank you, but I’d rather stay away from any place witches might show up...” Dean started to say, thinking that Benny didn’t know about Dean  _ now _ but that could easily change later, when he realized exactly what Benny had said. “Wait,  _ my _ witch? What are you talking about.”

“You’re a witch’s familiar, ain’t ya? I can smell their magic on you.”

“I’m not a witch’s familiar, I’m just an unlucky bastard that got stuck here,” Dean told him, laughing nervously. Benny was probably smelling the leftover magic from the spell he’d helped Castiel cast. 

Benny raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I’m not judging you. I thought the practice had been abandoned since the wars, but trust me when I say, this is not your fault. It’s that asshole’s for trapping you and shackling you to them without your permission. You did good escaping them, so that’s why I’m saying you’ll be safe in my home. My wife and I, we take care of outcasts.”

Dean’s stomach turned. “I’m not anyone’s familiar. I don’t know what you’re smelling.” And he certainly hadn’t been shackled to Cas. 

“You keep telling yourself that, but my nose doesn’t lie,” Benny said, tapping a finger against the tip of his nose. 

“Can you really smell a bond like that?” Dean asked, not even daring to consider it. 

“Of course. A werewolf’s nose is never wrong, you know, and a bond’s scent is very distinctive, spicy in the way magic always is but not quite as annoying. It’s kind of sweet, too, though every pair’s scent is different. And you my friend, you reek of your witch’s magic.”

“But there was no bonding ceremony,” Dean mumbled before he could stop himself. “There has to be a bonding ceremony, right?”

Benny shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not an expert on magic. But here’s what I got for you: my wife and I never had a ceremony or whatever, and we’re still bonded. I’m sure witches have their ways, and not everyone is as nice as Andrea.”

“And you’re sure?” 

“Positive. But don’t fret over that now, Andrea might know how to break it.” Benny patted the ground next to him. “The shade’s thick here, and I have plenty of food with me. The sun will be down in a couple of hours and then we can head back home together and ask her. I live in a small hut down there.” He gestured vaguely in the direction away from the castle. 

“Thank you, I’m not really hungry,” Dean said. His stomach was a tight knot, and even if he tried to eat he didn’t think he’d be able to hold anything down. It had to be Cas, there was no other witch Dean had let near him. Was it because they’d cast that spell together? Or was it because he fed on Castiel?

Shit, Dean had screwed that up majorly. He had to go back to Castiel and talk to him, but he needed a backup plan, too, in case something went wrong. “Hey, Benny?”

The man hummed to show he was listening as he opened his sack to retrieve fresh fruit and cheese. Not exactly what Dean would expect a werewolf to eat, but he guessed deer hearts were harder to carry around with you.

“Listen, I have to take care of something first, but if the offer still stands, I might need a place to stay afterwards,” he said, hesitantly. “If you just tell me where your hut is, I’d like Andrea’s help.”

“Of course,” Benny said immediately. “But sit down, relax. What’s the hurry? You can’t make it out of the woods in the daylight, can you?”

“I’ll be fine, I have the cloak you gave me. I promise to return it,” Dean said. His skin began crawling with anxiousness the longer he spent away from Castiel. 

Benny didn’t look convinced, but whatever expression Dean was wearing was enough to make him nod in the end. He hastily gave Dean directions on how to find his hut before squeezing his shoulder. “Be careful out there, brother. Not every witch is bad, but a lot of them can be dangerous to people like us.”

“I will be,” Dean promised. “And it’s Dean.”

Benny nodded, satisfied. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

With a quick handshake and a last ‘thank you’, Dean turned to leave. He was already itching to start running towards the castle. He’d have to be careful though. A cloak and the forest’s shade may protect him from the diminishing light, but there were still guards searching for him. 

The cooks looked at Castiel curiously as he hurried through the kitchen. His hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkly and probably didn’t match, and he was so late. He couldn’t believe he’d spent the entire day sleeping. After he’d gone out to search for Dean again last night—and hadn’t found him—he’d thought he’d lie down to get some rest until it was time for breakfast, two hours at most. 

He’d slept for thirteen hours straight. How could that have happened? Castiel had never slept for so long before. Sure, it’d been three days since he’d closed his eyes for some proper rest, but thirteen hours? Not only had he wasted the whole day when he could be looking for a way to track Dean, but he’d also missed another day of the Meetings. That last part didn’t bother him as much, but he was sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it when word reached Michael. As if he didn’t have enough problems already.

The sky was still a pale blue when he stepped out on the lower terrace that circled the castle, though the harsh glow of the sun touching the treetops in the distance promised the arrival of night before long. Castiel took the steps down to the garden two at a time, ducking into the hedge maze as soon as he could. Hannah was sure to be looking for him after he’d skipped the Meetings, Charlie and Anna were also patrolling around the grounds, and God knew where Inias had run off to. Spending more time on the main paths raised his chances of running into any of them. Dean wouldn’t be hiding anywhere near the main paths or castle anyway.

He kept his right hand on the hedge wall as he walked. Another turn and he found himself in the circular opening that was the center of the maze, marble benches lining the walls, a tiny fountain in the middle of everything. If he remembered correctly, the path he had to follow to reach the other side was— 

In an earth-shaking moment, the sky above his head lit up, the barrier that covered their territory like a giant snow globe rippling back into visibility with a violent whoosh. Jaw going slack from shock, Castiel turned his eyes to the sky, now tinted an unnatural shade of red. He traced the barrier back to its origin, the light column emitting from the highest tower of the castle, to see it was now dark and cloudy. 

Something was wrong.

Castiel glanced at the path across from him, torn for a moment. Dean could be in danger, but for the barrier to change color so suddenly meant something grave must have happened. Maybe they were _ all _ in danger. 

Hands curling into fists, Castiel turned his back on the maze’s center and ran back the way he came.

When he broke out of the maze, he almost collided with a squad of guards running down the main path towards the town. He stumbled back, his hand searching for support behind him, and watched with wide eyes as more and more guards appeared from every direction. The brassy boom of the war horn sounded over their steps, making Castiel’s blood run cold. 

A redhead rose over the sea of people, pale blue eyes meeting Castiel’s, before Anna pushed through the crowd to reach him. Charlie appeared next to her, both of them in full armor, the steel of their breast plates gleaming under the glow of the barrier. 

“Castiel, there’s been a breach in the barrier near the town walls,” Anna said.

“Who is it? Vampires?” Castiel asked, breathless from running. Had John Winchester finally had enough and come to claim his son?

Charlie shook her head. “We don’t know yet. There were several signals across a small section of the barrier, though none of them were from magical creatures.”

“So humans?” Castiel looked between them, trying to understand what was going on, but both of them looked equally as bewildered. 

“Cassie.” Michael’s voice slashed through his thoughts. He and Dorothy brought their horses to the side of the road, Michael still in the clothes he was probably wearing for dinner, Dorothy in full gear. 

Charlie’s eyes widened at the sight, but Castiel didn’t have time for his friend’s crush.

“You’re going down there?” he asked Michael.

His brother exchanged an unreadable look with his familiar. “The reports coming in are talking about a human invasion, Men of Letters apparently. I’m going down there to help my guards.”

“We’ll be sending citizens up to the castle. When all of them have made it behind the walls, close the gates,” Dorothy instructed, her face an inscrutable mask. “We’ll leave a few guards with you, but we need all the hands we can get. We’ve never faced humans on our territory, let alone hunters. This could be dangerous.”

“Cassie, you’re in charge while I’m away,” Michael said, giving his brother a quick nod before pulling on the reins of his horse and leading it away. 

“Come on girls,” Dorothy told Charlie and Anna, gesturing with her head to the few dozen guards that were already halfway down the hill. “Time to put all those hard-earned skills to the test.”

“Wait, I’m coming, too,” Castiel said, running down the path to catch up with his brother.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Michael said, his tone indicating there was nothing Castiel could say that would change his mind. He threw Castiel a warning glare over his shoulder. “You’re not a fighter, but even if you were, our people need you here. If anything happens to me, you have to be safe to take over as the next High Priest.”

“You’re not a soldier either,” Castiel protested, choosing to ignore the fact that his brother was one of the strongest witches he’d ever met and together with Dorothy they were undoubtedly the strongest fighting pair among their ranks. “I can help you.”

“You can help me by keeping our witches safe,” Michael shot back. His face softened and he added, “I’ll be back. You don’t have anything to worry about. This is our land, and we have many strong soldiers on our side. My duty is to fight to protect our people, and you should do yours by taking care of them through these trying times.”

“Michael, we should go,” Dorothy said, leading the few remaining soldiers down the hill. “We can’t waste any more precious time.”

Michael nodded, raising his hand in a relaxed salute in Castiel’s direction. “I’ll see you later.”

As he watched his brother and his friends walk away, passing through the first groups of witches arriving from town, Castiel felt something in his chest constrict. It wasn’t right that everyone he considered family was leaving him, and it wasn’t right that he’d be waiting for them with his heart in his throat while they were fighting a dangerous battle. He’d been too young when his parents had hugged and kissed both him and Michael before going to battle, but he still remembered the hollowness when two caskets came back instead. 

In that moment, his next steps didn’t feel like a decision so much as an inevitability. He wasn’t going to sit and wait while his brother was putting his life on the line. Whether Michael liked it or not, Castiel was going to be taking part in that battle. 

“Castiel!”

He whipped his head around to find Raphael and Zachariah standing at the main entrance of the castle, beckoning him over. Time to run then, he thought, ducking his head and heading straight for the witches approaching the castle. The surest way to get away from a bird familiar was to get lost in the crowd. Raphael and Zachariah could take care of the witches in his stead, and he could go and fight to protect his brother and his people.

_ And hopefully stop the humans before one of them comes across Dean, _ a voice in the back of his mind provided, making the anxiety twisting uncomfortably in his gut sharpen to the point of pain. 

Castiel was going to fight to protect all the people he loved.

Getting back to the castle was taking forever. Staying hidden from the sun was one thing, but Dean’s main problem was that he had to stop every now and then to listen for guards or familiars patrolling. He was fairly sure that no squad would be coming through these parts of the woods for at least another couple of hours, but keeping his head low and being extra careful was the best course of action in his current state. Hopefully Castiel hadn’t given up on looking for him, and he’d come across him eventually even if Dean didn’t make the whole trip back to the castle.

If his sense of direction wasn’t wrong, he only had another five minutes or so on foot before he made it to the edge of the woods, and from there on it was a vast clearing with low bushes and flowers until he reached the castle gardens. That part was going to be the most difficult. Without the cover of the trees, a lone hooded figure was going to draw attention, even if Dean waited until sundown to leave the forest. 

Would it be safer to transform and try flying back to Cas’ room? His experience said no—that was how that red-haired cat familiar had caught him the first time—but he could be more careful this time. Deep down inside he knew he was being reckless, but the thought of not seeing Cas as soon as possible was unbearable. If he really was Cas’ familiar now, what did that mean about Dean’s powers and charming glamour? What did it mean about their kiss two nights ago? Maybe it was selfish of him to be thinking about his love life at the worst possible moment, but his mind was stuck there and that was that. His brain had decided that the problem they were going to be fixing was his relationship with Cas.

It was a peculiar thing for someone like Dean to lose himself in thoughts of another person. It was like his brain chose to focus on everything labeled  _ Cas _ and ignore anything else happening around him, dulling his usually hyper-aware senses. Which was why Dean didn’t realize that he was walking straight past someone until it was too late.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

The voice slashed right through Dean’s daydreams, panic trickling ice cold down his spine as he stood frozen with his back to what was probably another witch. Well, shit. What were the chances this one was as nice as Benny? Not very high, he guessed.

“Turn around and identify yourself,” the man commanded, and then in a lower voice said, “Kevin, stay close.”

Keeping his back to the very overbearing witch who could send a spell his way at any moment wasn’t wise, so Dean raised his arms above his head. He could transform and fly away, but that would mean abandoning the cape Benny had given him and his only protection from the sun while it was still out. Slowly he turned around, only for his stomach to drop. Well, he didn’t know who Kevin was, but he definitely knew the witch—that was Cas’ friend, Inias, the one who’d been guarding him when he’d escaped. 

Perfect.

Inias wasn’t in his Royal Guard getup Dean was used to seeing him in, wearing a light tunic and leather breeches instead. His breast pocket moved, Dean’s eyes falling to catch the end of a tail diving deeper inside. That was Kevin, he guessed.

“Remove your hood,” Inias ordered, a hand raised, the air around him pulsing with a spell waiting to be released. 

Dean hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he tried to figure out a way out of this.

“I said remove your hood,” Inias repeated, jerking his hand and sending an energy ball straight towards Dean’s chest. 

With barely any time to react, Dean jumped out of the way, hitting the ground with enough force to send a wave of pain up his side. That was going to bruise, he thought, though the pain was nothing compared to his shoulder, where Inias’ spell had grazed him. It was burning, like Inias had used a hot iron to brand him, and it was spreading, the heat twisting like tentacles down his arm. 

Inias didn’t lose any time. He rushed towards Dean, the next spell already flaring around his fingers, mouth set with determination.

With tears in his eyes, Dean rolled away, gritting his teeth against the pain that made his muscles shake. His feet found the ground underneath him and he pushed up, every option passing through his mind at lightning speed. There were none that he liked, but between fleeing and staying here to fight, he’d rather fight. If he transformed, he’d lose his only protection against the sun, and that was infinitely more dangerous when dusk was still a couple of hours away.

His hand fumbled on the ground next to him, fingers closing around a thick stick that felt sturdy enough to be used to hit someone. It was better than nothing.

Inias was only two short steps away, so Dean swung the stick in his direction, feeling a wave of pain go down his shoulder. 

Easily sidestepping Dean’s weak attempt, Inias flicked his wrist, and Dean was thrown back again, the impact knocking all the air out of him. He groaned, tasting the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. Had he bit his tongue while falling, or were his injuries more serious than he’d thought?

Inias gasped, stopping short a couple of feet away. Not bothering to wait and see what caught Inias by surprise, Dean tried rolling to his side to put some distance between them, only for him to accidentally move to a patch of ground where the sun shone through the trees’ shade. The effect was instant, the light blazing across his skin, but somehow, instead of the razor blades Dean was used to, it felt more like pin pricks. His surprise at that revelation was short lived, for it was followed by the realization that his hood had fallen away and his face was now exposed.

“You,” Inias hissed, a mixture of triumph and rage coloring his voice. “I knew it.”

A squeaking followed his words as his familiar climbed out of his pocket and onto his shoulder before disappearing down his back. Dean was still trying to scramble away when the familiar transformed with a shuffling sound, and a dark-haired guy peered at him from behind the guard.

“That’s the vampire?” Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look so strong to me.”

“He isn’t,” Inias said, and Dean had to bite back the instinct to scoff. First of all because taunting his enemy when he was outnumbered wasn’t smart, and secondly because compared to magic, even his above average strength wasn’t that impressive. So really it wasn’t his place to correct them. 

“Alright, so we catch him, take him to Michael, and then ask for your job back,” Kevin said, stepping out of Inias’ shadow, dressed in a nice shirt and dark pair of pants—and again, how unfair was it that familiars transformed with their clothes? Dean had never been self-conscious about being naked, or other people being naked around him, but clothes surely provided a certain sense of protection that his cloak didn’t.

“That’s the plan,” Inias said, and he already had his next spell ready between his palms. 

He released the spell without warning, hitting Dean straight in the face with the full force of it, and though he braced himself for pain, the only thing he could feel was a weird tingling settling over him, almost wet and sticky against his skin. When he tried to move, his muscles refused to obey. He thrust and jerked, but his body was frozen. He dropped his head back with a frustrated groan. 

This was the end then.

“This feels too easy,” Kevin commented, but he followed Inias’ gesture to keep away, while he stalked closer to Dean. 

“Ready to go back to the cage, bat?” Inias asked, producing a length of chains with a circular movement of his fingers. 

Dean had a snarky answer at the tip of his tongue, but it never made it past his lips, for the next second, a loud whoosh shook the earth around them and cast the leaves over their heads in a crimson glow. 

“What the…” Kevin trailed off, his bulging eyes meeting Inias’ equally panicked gaze. 

Wonderful, Dean thought. If even the witch didn’t know what was happening, then they were in serious trouble.

As if to underline his last thought, the deep sound of a war horn rose up from the direction of the castle. Were they under attack?

“Could it be— “

“Vampires,” Inias finished his familiar’s sentence before turning sharply back towards Dean. “Come on, Kev. We have to take him back to the castle and fast.”

Bound by the spell, Dean could do nothing but surrender. 

Navigating down the paths from the castle to the city was tricky when everyone else was trying to do the exact opposite. All the guards had already reached the city, leaving the paths to be swarmed by panicked witches and familiars running away, and making Castiel’s life unimaginably more difficult.

He shoved his way through the crowd, going as fast he could. He could already hear the clash and rumble of a battle raging and he followed the sound, cutting through the narrow alleys that wove an intricate maze through the town as soon as he could. There weren’t any people there, and Castiel picked up his pace, going towards the east border of the town. Soon he could see flashes of spells being thrown around, sparks exploding in the sky, shadows of guards and humans running around. 

His feet slipped on the pebble road as he came to a sudden stop at the turn leading him directly into the fighting, but Castiel easily regained his balance and rushed forward. The heat of the battle engulfed him immediately, the roar of spells and weapons vibrating up through his feet, making him wobbly in a way he’d never been before.

Smoke and flashing lights obscured his vision, the figures of witches barely distinguishable from the humans due to the bulk of their armor. It didn’t make sense, the humans shouldn’t be able to keep up with their spells and their fighting pairs, and yet, outnumbered as they were, they were giving the Royal Guard a hard time. 

Michael wouldn’t like the way things were unfolding. One more reason for Castiel to be here fighting alongside him. They needed all the help they could get. 

A human jumped out of the smoke with a loud yell, his sword raised, and Castiel brought his arms in front of him in an X-shape on instinct, blocking the attack but only barely. His barrier was weak and crude, and nothing like the ones Anna and Inias conjured with a single thought. 

Gritting his teeth, Castiel planted his feet firmly on the ground, casting the first spell that came to his mind, a blazing ball that materialized between his palms. He shot it towards his opponent, but the hunter easily jumped to the side, the fireball missing him and disappearing into the smoke. A scream rose from the direction his spell had disappeared. It was impossible to tell if Castiel had hit a hunter or a witch.

“Not a very good fighter, are you?” the hunter asked cheekily, rolling the sword around his wrist while he circled Castiel. He kept an open stance, his shoulders tense like he was expecting Castiel to throw another spell at him any moment, though his face betrayed no concern.

Castiel could feel his magic fizzing under his skin, but he was reluctant to shoot another spell when the man had proven he could easily avoid them, letting them hit whoever was behind him. 

“You’re not going to talk?” the hunter taunted, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. If you’re not going to be fun, I guess I’ll just kill you.”

He darted forward, swinging his sword for a diagonal cut, and Castiel blocked it with a wall of energy, the shock of the metal hitting his magic going down his spine like lightning. His opponent wasn’t going to give up, though. He kept pushing relentlessly forward, knowing as well as Castiel did that his defense only had to waver for a split second. 

Castiel had to come up with a plan before they got to that point. There was an idea in the back of his mind, a tactic he’d seen Inias and Anna use hundreds of times while they were training, but it was complex and required very fast spell casting. It was risky. He’d have to drop his barrier to try it, but he didn’t have a choice. Every time the man’s blade hit his barrier it became weaker and weaker. Castiel could feel it fraying along the edges. 

Alright then. 

Tucking his tongue behind his teeth, Castiel gathered all his magic, feeling the energy coiling tightly behind his ribcage and asking for release. 

Not yet.

When the hunter came at him again, this time thrusting his sword first to pierce the barrier, Castiel met the blow head on and gave his spell a push that knocked the man back. While he was still staggering to regain his balance, Castiel dropped his defensive barrier, throwing his hands out to keep the two different spells he needed ready. Timing was important. 

Expression twisted with anger, the hunter lunged at him again, sword held firmly with both hands and raised over his head. “You little shit.”

_ Now, _ Castiel thought, using everything he had to make his next shot as powerful as possible. 

As expected, the man slid to the side, letting the shot pass him by, but Castiel was already moving his other hand, sending his second spell to create a reflective surface behind the man for his first spell to bounce off of, changing its course.

To the wrong direction, Castiel realized as his fireball flew towards the sky and not towards the hunter. 

A snarl falling from his mouth like a wild animal, the hunter slashed at him. 

Castiel desperately scrambled to bring his barrier back up but he was too tired and too slow. The spell only came up to his clavicle, and only managed to stop the sword after it’d cut through the muscle of his shoulder. 

Vision going dark around the edges with pain, Castiel pushed the barrier again, this time upward, sending the blow back towards the hunter and stopping the blade from going deeper at the same time. 

The hunter faltered, surprise crossing over his features, but then his hold on the hilt of the sword tightened, determination settling heavy over his shoulders.

Castiel could feel blood running down his arm, his magic weakly tingling around the wound, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to block a second blow. He was all out of juice. 

The blade glinted with all the colors of the spells around them as it came down on him. 

Dean continued to struggle, but Inias’ spell kept him immobilized as they carried him back towards the castle, Kevin at the front and Inias making up the rear of their formation, hands up to keep the levitation spell he was using on Dean stable. The sky above them was tinted in a crimson color that made even the witches uneasy, though Dean had only managed to steal a glimpse of it, covered as he was from head to toe to avoid dying from exposure to the sun. Inias insisted on dragging him back alive and unharmed so he could throw him straight back into jail in the same condition he’d escaped.

“Where do you think they are?” Kevin asked, his voice tinted with worry. “The vampires attacking us, I mean.”

“Nowhere near the castle, or we’d have seen them already,” Inias answered him, sounding far more collected than his familiar. “I’m going to drop you off where you’re safe, and  _ this _ one with a guard, then I’ll see if I can help the others.”

From the few things Cas had mentioned about them, Dean assumed that only one of them was a soldier, so Kevin probably had no experience in battle. Now if only Dean could think of a way to take advantage of that piece of information.

“You’re not a guard anymore,” Kevin pointed out, though his words were not unkind, more like a gentle reminder.

“And this is the perfect opportunity to prove to everyone that I should be. If we’re under attack, they’ll need me.”

“I should come with you.”

“It’s not safe,” Inias shot back, leaving no room for discussion.

“But I’m your familiar,” Kevin argued, clearly not used to being ordered around like that. “I should be there to help you.”

“I don’t need you there. Just being bonded gives me extra power, there’s no need to endanger you for an insignificant boost.”

“I wouldn’t call it insignificant. I’ve seen what Anna can do when Charlie is with her to help her channel her magic; you should let me do the same.”

“Charlie is a trained soldier, you’re not.”

God, even if Dean had any idea as to where his escape plan should start, all that bickering would’ve destroyed his chances of concentrating enough to put his thoughts in order. Although, maybe their bickering was exactly the opening he needed to get out of this. If he pissed off Inias enough by supporting Kevin’s arguments, maybe the witch would do something stupid like—

“Inias, look!”

Dean was suddenly jerked back as Inias stopped walking to look towards where Kevin was pointing. Daring to tilt his head back enough to peek under his hood, Dean saw a massive crowd of people heading up the hill towards the castle—people running away from the battle.

At that moment, pain like a knife to the gut pierced through Dean, leaving him dizzy and disoriented as he floundered, trying to understand what had just happened. The pain was so strong that had it not been for Inias’ spell keeping him upright, Dean would have doubled over already. It was like his chest was on fire, and the burn was snaking all over his body. But it wasn’t  _ his  _ pain, that Dean knew with absolute clarity, for he could feel a tug inside him, insistent and firm and stronger with every passing second that could only lead to one person—Cas.

Cas was in pain, and Dean needed to go to him as soon as possible.

“There’s smoke coming from the direction of the town,” Kevin said, horrified, and Inias snapped his head around to check. His movement was followed by a single moment of distraction, which Dean felt like ropes loosening around his body, and with Cas’ pain still blazing through him, he wasn’t going to let the moment go to waste.

He transformed, flapping his wings and gaining height, ignoring the itch where the sun touched his skin, which was everywhere. He was too far gone to care about that, to care about anything except for one thing: finding Castiel.

He let the pull inside his chest guide him, soaring in the direction of the city and seeing firsthand how a tower of smoke was rising up to cover the houses, the canals, even part of the sunflower fields up the hill. Bringing his wings closer to his body, both to gain speed and minimize the skin exposed to the burning light, he dove head first towards where he could feel Castiel was. 

Smoke filled his nostrils, flooded his mouth and made his eyes sting with tears, but Dean ignored all that. He was so close now, so close. He flew through the clash of steel and the rumble of spells lighting up the smoke, barely maneuvering around a hunter swinging his sword at a bleeding witch, and glided along the edges of the battle to where the pull inside his chest was taking him.

And there, finally, through the fumes and flashes, two figures emerged—one of them on the ground, the other standing tall and threatening, facing the shadows emerging through the heavy curls of smoke opposite them. Even before he was close enough to see the dark curls of hair, Dean knew which one was Cas, and he flew straight to him, his stomach churning at the way Cas was curled in a ball on the ground, his shoulder wet with blood. The other one was harder to recognize, but the next spell out of his hands lit up Michael’s face in a purple glow, deepening the tight lines around his eyes. 

He was outnumbered, Michael against half a dozen hunters and no other witch was anywhere close to them. A hunter with dark hair darted forward, but Michael easily blocked the attack with his sword, his other hand jerking in the direction of the two men trying to take advantage of his attention diverting to that single target. The stream of fire knocked them back, their screams lost to the crash and clamor of steel meeting magic. 

Michael swiveled his sword, pressing forward and guiding his dark-haired opponent away from Castiel, while simultaneously he sent spell after spell at the other hunters, trying to keep them under control, but they were too many for him to handle alone.

Dean landed crouching, a knee and a hand on the ground to help support him after the fast transformation mid-air. The pain of sharp rocks digging into his skin barely registered, though Cas’ shocked “Dean, wait,” certainly made an impact. He didn’t have time to chat, however.

The two men Michael had pushed back with his blazing attack were struggling back onto their feet, and Dean reacted on instinct. Being this close to Cas made his nerves tingle, a newfound power surging through him like nothing he’d felt before. As he slammed his fist into one hunter’s face and watched him drop unconscious on the ground, he wondered how he didn’t notice this before. It wasn’t just that he was stronger, he was faster and his senses sharpened to the point he could keep track of Michael fighting with the three hunters behind him while he kicked the second burnt man in the gut, making him curl around his stomach, and stepping over him to reach one of their swords. 

Dean wasn’t experienced in real battle, but he’d trained since he was young to keep his father happy. Time to put those skills to the test. 

When he spun around, Cas was staggering back to his feet and Michael parried Dark Hair’s blow by holding his sword up over his face. The second hunter attacking him, a man with an ugly scar running down his cheek, was closing in too, and it took all of Michael’s force to keep the spell against him active and strong. Then the third one jumped forward, swinging his sword low, blue eyes shining with fury.

Michael had no chance of blocking it, his blade still bound in a battle of wills with Dark Hair, his other hand too busy holding off Scar Face. 

Steel met steel as Dean threw himself into the battle without a second thought, gritting his teeth against Blue Eyes’ unrelenting force.

“You,” Michael growled, briefly turning his head to meet Dean’s gaze.

The answer was stolen out of Dean’s mouth as a blaze passed by him, grazing him on the cheekbone and hitting Blue Eyes in the center of the chest. The man was thrown back, colliding with the half-collapsed wall of a house and dropping to the ground like his strings had been cut. He didn’t get up.

Dean’s whole body heated up as a surge of magic washed through him, warm and familiar, and Cas came to stand next to him, one hand on his shoulder and the other sending another spearing spell towards Scar Face.

“You’re here,” Cas said, eyes wide with surprise, like he thought Dean would stand by and watch while he was putting his life on the line. 

“And you’re hurt,” Dean said, eyes trained on the bloodstain covering most of his shirt by now.

“Cas, stay back,” Michael ordered. With the odds evened out, he was destroying his opponent, every hit more fierce than the last one, causing Dark Hair to step back, losing ground until there was nowhere else for him to go.

With a cry and a final swing of Michael’s sword, the hunter dropped to his knees, blood oozing from the slash on his chest and overflowing his mouth. He collapsed, his body hitting the ground with a hollow thud. 

A river of blood still trailing down his blade, Michael turned towards Cas and Dean, his stance guarded. 

“Michael, wait,” Cas said, putting himself between his brother and Dean. 

Michael’s eyes slid from Cas to Dean, a slight raise of his eyebrows the only hint of the conclusion he must have just reached.

“You helped him escape?” Michael asked, stalking towards them.

“It’s not his fault,” Dean said, at the same time Cas raised a hand in a soothing gesture saying, “If you just let me explain.”

“Sir, wait!” Inias came running through the smoke, Kevin hot on his heels. He came to a sudden stop, his stance wide and aggressive as he rolled his shoulders back and faced both Cas and Dean. “I’ll take care of him, sir,” he growled. “Cassie, get out of the way before you get hurt.”

“Inias, no,” Cas said, a hint of desperation in his voice, though his expression was hidden from Dean. 

There was a beat where they all sized each other up, Dean tense and ready to go on the defensive at any moment, Cas looking pleadingly between his brother and his friend, Kevin keeping close to his witch in case his assistance was needed, and Michael standing with an unreadable expression on his face.

It was Dorothy galloping towards them, sword swinging at every hunter that got in her way, that snapped them out of that moment. “They’re pulling back,” she yelled, extending a hand to Michael. Her eyes flitted in Dean’s direction, but Michael had already grabbed her hand and was climbing on the horse behind her without waiting for them to slow down.

“We have to chase them out of our territory,” he said, gesturing with his head for everyone to follow. “Either be useful and fight or go and hide.”

“We fight,” Cas decided immediately, grabbing Dean’s hand and dragging him towards where Dorothy and Michael were leading the counterattack. 

Dean followed without hesitation. He could feel Cas’ magic making his blood fizzle, intoxicating like the adrenaline rush that always flooded him after free falling from the tallest building back home and stretching his wings to avoid the ground at the last possible second. Even without it, he’d have dove head first into the battle though. There was no place Cas could lead him that Dean wouldn’t follow. 

Kevin’s protests rose loudly behind them, and Dean snapped his gaze back just in time to see Inias pointing his familiar towards the houses, away from the heat of the battle, before turning and running after them. Their argument about Kevin helping Inias fight clearly hadn’t been resolved in the time since Dean had escaped. 

The boom of an explosion pierced the air, making the ground shake under their feet and the narrow houses wobble like they were stacks of cards. Michael and Dorothy were nothing more than a huge shadow, chasing after the few remaining hunters through the curls and swirls of the newly swelling dark smoke, and Cas ran after them without hesitation. It seemed that now he and Dean were together again, he’d forgotten all about his injured shoulder, in the same way Dean had felt rejuvenated the moment he’d landed next to his witch—and how weird it still was to think about Cas as  _ his witch.  _

“Stay close, Dean,” Cas instructed through gritted teeth, and Dean was more than happy to oblige. The stolen sword felt just right in his hand, his training coming through to help him meet every blow head on and push back almost on instinct. On his side, Cas expertly controlled his spells to sometimes assist Dean in his attacks, sometimes conjuring barriers that protected them both, and all that time Dean could feel the flow of magic between them like an unstoppable stream, endless and powerful and infinitely looping around them both. If that was what being a familiar felt like then sign him up, because he didn’t think he could give this up after getting a taste of it. 

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see Inias fighting a few feet away from him, and though he held no warm feelings for the man, he had to admit that the way he moved and fought was almost mesmerizing to watch. When watching him, every way that Dean and Cas lacked practical experience became glaringly obvious. Inias was truly a master of fighting skills, and even Dean could see why kicking him out of the Royal Guard had been a big mistake on Dorothy’s end. 

One of the few hunters still left around to fight—a man that seemed almost as young as Dean, with a square jaw and dark curls covering his forehead—rolled the sword over his wrist, spinning around as he swung out towards them, and Cas barely blocked it with a hasty barrier while Dean dealt with a blond swordsman. Dean caught movement in his peripheral vision, but the witches now outnumbered the hunters by far, and he wasn’t worried. Someone would deal with the hunter. 

But it was neither a hunter nor a witch, and no one realized it until it was too late. By the time Inias’ worried cry reached them, Cas and Dean were too far away to do anything but watch horrified as Inias jumped in front of Kevin, taking a hit straight through the stomach.

“Shit,” Cas cursed, quickly creating a bubble that blew their opponents back when it exploded, and then he was running. 

Dean tightened his hold on his sword even though he knew they wouldn’t make it in time. Inias was bleeding out on the ground, his head in Kevin’s lap, who was looking around him helplessly, both of them defenseless against the hunter now raising the sword over his head to deal the finishing blow.

At the last moment the hunter was hit from behind by an explosion of green flames that threw him across the street, the weapon falling from his hand. 

Anna emerged through the smoke, a trail of blood running down her face as she dropped to her knees next to Inias to put pressure on the wound. Her lips moved as she crouched over him to talk to him, but her words were lost to the dying howl of the battle. Inias was trembling by then, and Kevin had tear streaks going down his cheeks. 

“Castiel, you’re here, too?” Anna’s voice cracked when her eyes landed on Dean and widened as they travelled lower to take in the fact that yes, Dean was here and yes, he was fighting naked. “The bat, what—”

“No time to explain,” Castiel growled, falling to his knees next to his friends and patting the empty ground next to him for Dean to do the same. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed, as Dean watched a frown forming between his brows. 

“Get the bat away from him,” Kevin hissed through his crying hiccups, his hold around his witch’s head tightening protectively. “This is all his fault.”

“Kevin, calm down.” Cas reached a calming hand towards his hands, but Kevin jerked away. 

The sudden movement made Inias cry out in pain as he shook and trembled, a bloody pool forming beneath him. 

“Did you—help him?” he asked through bloody teeth, the anger in his voice reflected on Anna’s and Kevin’s faces. “You chose a—a bat—a bat over your friend?”

Cas flinched away, hurt twisting his expression in a way that made Dean want to fight everyone and everything just to fix what was troubling him. However, neither of the two could do anything to calm Kevin’s outburst.

“And you came to  _ my _ house, too,” he accused, putting himself between Castiel and Inias, though it did nothing to cover the pained curses falling from Inias’ mouth.

“Kevin, it’s not the time,” Anna snapped, worried blue eyes flicking between the mouse familiar and Cas before settling on Dean with an intensity that made a shiver go down his spine. He was sure that had it not been for Inias bleeding out between them, he’d already be facing her blade. “Look, I’ll cast a spell that will slow down the bleeding, but we need to get him to a healer. Dorothy has a few of them stationed behind the houses back there, but I can’t carry him alone, so go and tell them to come here instead.”

“But I can’t leave him,” Kevin complained.

Inias reached to grab his hand quickly and squeeze. “Kev, it’s—it’s okay,” he said between wheezing breaths. “I’m—I’m going to—to be—okay.”

Kevin opened his mouth to answer, but Anna beat him to it. “He’s not going to be okay unless you get him a healer, Kevin. Come on, do your job.”

Finally realizing the gravity of the situation, Kevin gave Inias’ hand one final squeeze before scrambling away towards the direction Anna had pointed at. 

Dean watched him go with an empty feeling in his stomach. Maybe this really was his fault. 

“Anna, let me help you,” Cas said, trying to put a hand over hers where they were glowing over Inias’ wound. At the same time, with his other hand he reached for Dean, surely intent on drawing some power from him as well, a movement Anna didn’t fail to notice, and she shooed him away.

“Just go, Castiel, you’ve done enough,” she said. “If you want to be useful find Charlie and send her to me.”

“But we—”

“Just go,” she repeated, turning to face Inias and speak soothing words to him. 

A bitter taste in the back of his throat, Dean put a hand on Cas’ shoulders, hoping to comfort him, if even a little. “Cas, come on, let’s go.”

Cas was trembling, practically vibrating right under Dean’s touch, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll find Charlie.”

By then most of the battle had died down, and the smoke had settled heavily over the ground to reveal guards in their dirtied and muddy armor arresting whatever hunters had been left behind, too injured to run away with the rest of their men. They found Charlie towards the edge of the town, closely following Dorothy and Michael, and though her mouth fell open when she saw Dean standing next to Cas, she quickly regained her composure and ran to find Anna and Inias. 

With the battle reaching its ultimate end, Dean turned to look at Castiel. “So what now?”

“Now we talk.”

Michael appeared as if out of thin air, his eyes hard as he stared at his brother. Dorothy was further down the road, shouting instructions at her soldiers, some of which were dragging themselves and their friends towards where the healers were stationed. Cas went pale at the sight of his brother, and Dean’s hand itched to touch him, comfort him, but even he knew that maybe this wasn’t the best time.Taking in both their miserable appearances, Michael lifted his sword, momentarily making panic flare inside Dean, only to wipe it clean of blood on his torn cape and then put it back in its sheath. 

“Follow me. Both of you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sam came to with a low groan. His head was spinning, his muscles heavy and slow to respond to the orders his brain was sending. He tried opening his eyes, but the burning sunlight only a few feet away from him made him want to puke. Surrendering himself to the safety of darkness again, he slumped forward, the bite of steel around his wrists stopping him from moving more than a few inches. 

Reality filtered through the fogginess clouding him in bits and pieces. It was morning, and he was in a place he didn’t recognize, hands bound behind his back. How had he gotten here?

Last night he had followed Christian because of something Eileen told him. Mick had been there, too, hadn’t he? Sam remembered Mick Davies, he’d seen him last night, and, and, and…

Christian.

Christian was one of the rogue vampires attacking humans. 

The memory made his stomach lurch, bile rising up his throat like acid. His own cousin had betrayed them, and when Sam had tried going back to tell his father—he’d found Grandpa.

The last thing he could remember was telling Grandpa Samuel about Christian, and then… 

And then he woke up here. 

Well, shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

And everything Mick had said about the Men of Letters preparing an attack on the witches, no one else knew but him and Mick, and he’d failed telling his father. Dean was probably in grave danger and Sam could do nothing but shake and curse at himself for being such an idiot.

Distant voices broke through the fuzziness, grounding him in the present and forcing him to open his eyes again, though he didn’t have the strength to do much but sit slumped against the wall behind him, head hanging over his chest.

He was in the inner courtyard of a house, small and cramped and, judging from the overgrown trees and bushes that were threatening to take over everything, abandoned. The archways that held up the upper floor were half collapsed in some parts, and the decorative columns that ran around the yard had become yellow with age where the vines hadn’t completely covered them. Everything was bathed in warm, bright sunlight, except for the corner he was chained in, where the building thankfully provided enough shade for him to be protected. 

Unfortunately, even if he did manage to regain his strength and somehow untie himself, he had nowhere to go, at least not until the sun set. He was stuck there.

The voices became louder, their tone rising and falling like they were laughing, before two cloaked figures came through the door on the opposite side of the yard. Their faces were obscured by their hoods, but the sound of their voices were more than enough for Sam to recognize them now that he could hear them properly—Christian and one of his buddies, Tyler or something. 

“I still can’t believe your grandad has us on babysitting duty,” Tyler complained loudly, strolling down the corridor that hugged the inner yard. 

“I know, and all because Sam saw me feeding from a human? So what? He’d have found out sooner or later, there’s no stopping our plan now.” Christian huffed, kicking a rock he found on the ground as he came to stand right at the edge of the yard, where shadow became light. Through half-lidded eyes, Sam saw his cousin smirking at him. “Look at him, he’s still out of it. All the precautions we took to make sure he can’t escape, and it doesn’t look like he’s even going to wake up.”

So Christian thought Sam was still unconscious, huh? Not that Sam could blame him, he himself felt barely awake enough to be aware of his surroundings, the back of his head throbbing with every heartbeat, but the longer he fought against falling asleep, the more conscious he felt. However, Christian thinking he was still sleeping might have been for the best. He and Tyler seemed inclined to talk about everything and anything, and they could let something useful slip. 

Closing his eyes again, Sam concentrated on his breathing while keeping an ear out for what his cousin and Tyler were saying.

“It’s a shame, though, isn’t it?” Christian said. “We’re stuck here while everyone else is getting ready for tonight.”

“You deserve it for being so careless,” Tyler told him, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I on the other hand should be with the others, preparing for the big night.”

Big night? What were they talking about?

“I’m sure Grandpa will let us be there when he attacks the Winchester Household.” Sam’s heartbeat sped up, a sick feeling curling in his stomach. “He won’t throw John into prison without showing off first.”

“Oh don’t be stupid, Christian. Samuel doesn’t give a shit about whether or not we’re there to watch him brag about taking over as the new Alpha. Power’s all he’s after, and if he’s smart, he’ll kill John Winchester before his supporters can even think about freeing him from prison.”

Samuel was planning to take over as Alpha? And kill John in the process? This was so much worse than what Sam had originally thought. He needed to find a way to get out of here and do it fast, but as long as these two were here his chances were pretty slim.

“Someone sounds upset,” Christian commented. 

“I’m not a child to be upset. As long as your grandfather makes good on his promise and lets us roam free, lets us be the predators we were born to be, I don’t care what his motives for taking over are.” There was a beat and a thoughtful hum, then, “It is a shame, though. I bet everyone’s already celebrating and we’re missing out on the fun.”

“A drink or two does sound good right about now,” Christian agreed, and Tyler added, “And some spit-roasted lamb would be an excellent appetizer before tonight’s celebratory feast. Blood always tastes better after lamb and wine, doesn’t it?”

“Oh man, that sounds good.”

“You know, we could sneak away and have a snack.”

Silence followed Tyler’s words, broken only by Sam’s pulse beating loudly in his ears. He could only hope Christian wasn’t close enough to hear it.

“You mean leave our posts?” Christian asked incredulously.

“Just for an hour or so. I mean, look at him. He’s out cold, chained to a wall, and surrounded by sun. There’s no way he can escape.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Samuel won’t even know we weren’t here,” Tyler said, though it was clear Christian didn’t need much convincing. He’d never been one to pass up on a good feast and the promise of alcohol. It was the only reason he’d agreed to accompany them when they visited the witches as Samuel’s personal assistant, Sam recalled now. 

The witches… If Samuel was behind the attacks on humans, could he also be behind the attack on the High Priest? His grandfather had always hated the witches, but Sam thought he would accept the peace treaty in the face of a common enemy—a common enemy that Sam now knew Samuel had created himself. And creating tension between the High Priest and John had certainly worked like a charm in keeping John’s attention away from where the true problem was—inside his own household. 

Could that mean that Samuel had framed Dean?

No, Sam couldn’t believe that. Samuel had always had a soft spot for Dean, since he reminded him so much of their mother, and there was no way he could have known Dean would fly to the witches’ castle that night. Dean being blamed for the murder attempt must have been a coincidence, but what a convenient one it was. With Dean in danger, John was even more distracted. A perfect opportunity for Samuel to catch him unaware.

Realizing he’d let his attention drift away from his captors, Sam quickly pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind. Finding a way to escape was his top priority now. He dared to crack his eyes open slightly, and saw that Christian and Tyler were standing by the door they’d come in through, excitement evident in the line of their shoulders.

“Alright, but only for a few hours,” Christian said, and Tyler nodded eagerly.

“Only until sundown. Then we’re back to babysit your cousin.” He threw his arms around Christian, squeezing him in a quick hug before pulling him out of the yard and deeper into the house. 

A door opened and closed in the distance, and after that, no matter how much Sam strained his ears, he couldn’t hear any other movement inside the house. They’d left. Time to force his sluggish body to work and get himself out of there then.

Sam huffed and puffed for what felt like hours. He struggled with the chains around his wrists, twisting and pulling, hitting them against rocks until his hands were bleeding and trying to squeeze through, but to no avail. He was trapped, and the blow to the back of his head still had him dizzy with every sudden jerk that failed to free him. 

Sweat beading on his forehead, he collapsed against the wall behind him, crowding closer to the corner of the building as the small shadow that kept him alive kept shrinking and shrinking with every passing minute. He didn’t think the sun would reach him, otherwise they wouldn’t have chained him there, but it was very inconvenient that he had less and less space to move around. 

Not that there was anywhere he could go, he thought bitterly, glaring at his bound hands. 

“Sam?” 

A hissed voice caught his attention, making his heart beat like crazy inside his chest. He knew that voice; that realization came almost at the same time Eileen’s head poked through a side door to survey the inner yard. The moment her eyes landed on him, the wary frown on her face grew bigger, her lips pressing in a thin line. 

She spared a moment to check that they were alone before she crossed the yard to get to him, holding her long skirt around her ankles. 

“Sam, what did they do to you?” she asked, falling to her knees next to him. 

“Eileen, how did you find me?” 

His joy and nerves were so tightly twisted together that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. There was no way he was getting out of this without telling Eileen the truth—the whole truth—about him and his family.

“You went missing the same night I told you Christian is probably a creepy assaulter. Now call me skeptical, but I didn’t think that was a coincidence, so I followed him this morning and he led me here. When I saw him leaving with that leery friend of his, I waited to make sure they weren’t coming back and then came to investigate.” As she spoke she ran her fingers over the chains, grabbing at them where they were knotted around a knob on the wall and pulling. She jerked them hard, Sam helping her as much as he could, but even with both of them the chains didn’t badge.

She huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face, and dropped to sit besides Sam. Her warm eyes were dark and troubled as she turned to look at him. “I don’t think we’ll be able to pull that out of the wall.”

“See if you can find something to break the chain,” Sam said, nodding his head in the direction of the building around them. “There has to be a hammer or something around here.”

“I’ll be right back.” She pushed herself back up in a swift motion and a whoosh of her skirt that made a dust cloud twirl around her, and she ran towards the house. 

It took several minutes for her to come back, minutes Sam spent with his heart in his throat, anxiously keeping an eye out to make sure Christian and Tyler weren’t coming back to check on him. If they did, Eileen would never hear him warning her.

When she appeared again dragging an axe with her, Sam almost cried with relief. She came to his side, dropping a bundle of blankets she’d carried along with the axe on the ground, before dragging a large rock close to Sam. 

“Put the chain on it,” she instructed, face flushed from the exertion. 

Sam dragged himself as close to the sunlight as he dared, while simultaneously maneuvering the chain to stretch over the rock Eileen had brought, but it was short; one wrong swing of the axe and it would be his hand severed instead of the chain. 

“Now, before I do this, are those blankets enough? Because I don’t want to be running around to find more after I’ve lifted this thing again,” Eileen said, gesturing at the axe leaning against the wall.

Sam shook his head, trying to connect the dots between the blankets and the axe. He couldn’t. “Enough for what?”

“Enough to protect you from the sun.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth like a fish, while an ice cold shock went down his spine. “You know?”

She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not as careful as you think you are,” she said, cocking her head to the side in a way that clearly dared him to contradict her.

Of course he didn’t.

“And you’re… okay with this? With me?” he asked, too scared of the answer but more scared of never finding out.

“Sam, I’ve known you for a long time,” she said, dropping to her knees so they were eye to eye, only a breath away from each other. She searched his face, a line forming between her brows, and she said, “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a human being. Maybe you’re… different, but you’re not evil. I won’t believe that for a second.” She nodded her head to the side, her mouth twisting with disgust. “Your cousin, on the other hand.”

Sam was speechless. He was simultaneously flooded with so much relief and so much warmth that he could barely breathe. In truth, he could do nothing more than sit back on his heels and watch as Eileen lifted the hammer on her shoulder with a groan. 

“Ready?” She looked almost as worried about what she was about to do as Sam felt, so he gave her what was hopefully an encouraging smile. 

“Ready.”

With shaking hands, she lifted the axe over her head, and Sam held his breath. Every instinct inside his body screamed for him to close his eyes, but he didn’t. He had to help her as much as he could, even if it was just encouraging her. 

After all, losing a hand was nothing compared to losing his entire family and his life. 

The blade of the axe glimmered under the sunlight for a second, and then Eileen swung down. 

The building Michael led them to was only a couple of minutes away from the plaza that had turned to a battle field. It had two tall towers flagging the entrance, which was twice the size of an average person and braced with steel rods running horizontally against the old and darkened wood. Inside the walls were made of the same heavy stones that made up the outside facade, with wooden details around the doors and windows and a grand marble staircase in the center of the room that led to the upper floors. 

Dean’s mouth almost dropped open in wonder, and even more so when he realized that this was a school. Class schedules were pinned along the walls, as well as announcements about upcoming events and a play a few of the kids were preparing. Damn, witches did everything big, it seemed. 

Stopping in the middle of the hall, Michael spun around to face them, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think anyone will bother us here.”

Cas stepped forward, the fading sunlight that was filtering through the windows giving his complexion a violet hue that made him seem weak and tired. There was blood staining his shirt, and it was obvious from the way he awkwardly held his shoulder that he was in a great deal of pain. “Michael, I can explain. If you just let me talk to you—”

“It seems to me,” Michael interrupted him, “that while we were going around in circles looking for a vampire hiding on our grounds that helped our prisoner escape, I should have been looking inside my own house all along.”

“It’s not what you think,” Dean tried to say, but Michael raised a hand in his direction, silencing him without ever taking his eyes off Castiel. 

“You betrayed us, Castiel. You betrayed me, and you betrayed your friend Inias, and every single witch in this country,” Michael said, voice cold enough to make hell freeze. It certainly made Dean’s insides freeze. 

He couldn’t even imagine what Cas must have been feeling, and he hated that if he tried to comfort him he’d only make things worse. 

“Why would you risk everything for a vampire you’d never met before?”

“Because he was innocent,” Cas blurted out, throwing his good arm in the air exasperated. He crossed the room in two swift steps and grabbed his brother’s shoulders, wincing through the pain. “Michael, you know me. Would I ever do something like that if I wasn’t sure that he was innocent?”

“It’s  _ because  _ I know you that you’re not both behind bars already.” Michael pulled away, taking Cas’ hands in his own. “You have a lot of explaining to do, little brother.”

Cas released a shaky breath and nodded. He checked over his shoulder, and Dean met his gaze, hoping that all his support could be poured into a single look. Whatever Cas saw when he was looking at him, it was enough to give him the courage to turn back to his brother and say, “I knew he was innocent, because the night of the attack he was with me. He was leaving my room when our guards caught him.”

“Your room,” Michael repeated, raising an eyebrow in Dean’s direction. He very pointedly did not look below Dean’s chest, and still, heat colored Dean’s cheeks. 

Being naked was so common among vampires, since they had to take their clothes off to transform, that he barely gave it a second thought anymore when not hiding his true identity, but under Michael’s scrutiny, for the first time in years, he felt uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, discreetly bringing his hands in front of his crotch to try and cover whatever he could. The movement made the skin on his back stretch painfully, reminding him that flying under sunlight, even the weak light right before sunset, was a bad idea. 

“Even if that’s true, I still don’t understand why you didn’t come to me first.” 

It was a blessing Michael hadn’t pushed further on  _ why _ Dean had been in Cas’ room that night, otherwise Dean could have fainted from embarrassment on the spot. 

“Because…” Cas shook his head, clearly at a loss for words. “You didn’t want to listen. And I didn’t think you’d believe me,” he said finally. “I thought I could just break him out and send him back to his family, but then you had that barrier put up, so I hid him and things got… complicated.”

“That’s an understatement,” Michael said, echoing the thought in Dean’s head. And he still had no idea that Dean was Cas’ familiar. 

Speaking of, Dean still didn’t know if Cas himself knew of that teeny tiny detail that made things between them even more complicated. He had to, though, right? He’d used Dean to channel his magic during the battle, so there had to be at least a part of him that knew. 

Michael’s eyes flicked in his direction again, cutting all thoughts in half as he stood very still, scared of the High Priest’s reaction. Last time he’d caught Michael’s attention, he’d ended up in a damp cell, and he had no desire to find himself there again in the near future.

“I think it’s safe to say, in light of recent events, that maybe we were a bit rushed in arresting you for the attempt on my life.” Michael addressed Dean for the first time, though he made no effort to step any closer to him. “You saved my life back there, and that’s a debt I’ll have to repay. Let’s start with trusting that you really mean no harm to any of us, until I can think of something better.”

“Oh, really, there’s no need for that,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I just did what anyone in my shoes would have done.”

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Michael pointed out, and something like a smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. It was gone in an instant, but for a second he looked so much like Castiel that Dean relaxed without realizing it.

Michael waved his hand, and a cloak materialized out of thin air with a  _ poof _ . Another flick of his wrist and the cloak floated in Dean’s direction. “I’m surprised you survived out in the light without this. You’re lucky it was so close to dusk and you got away with only a few sunburns.”

“Thank you,” Dean muttered, wrapping the cloak around him. The material was soft, but it still grazed over his sensitive skin, causing pain to ripple through him. He felt something wet slide down his back, something that smelled too much like blood for his own comfort. Still, a blistered back wasn’t something to complain about when he could have just as well died. 

“We have a lot to talk about, but right now our people need me.” Michael squeezed Cas’ shoulder as he passed him, giving his brother a weak smile. “You should head back to the castle and find a healer for you and Dean. I’ll deal with the aftermath of the battle and return to the castle as soon as I can.”

Cas still looked uneasy, but the terror was gone from his eyes. “Be careful.” 

“I always am, little brother,” Michael replied. He gave Dean a curt nod, a somewhat awkward gesture of acknowledgement. Though Dean guessed they were in a grey area where they were no longer enemies but they weren’t allies just yet either, so things were bound to be awkward. 

He’d take awkward over hostile any day. 

With Michael out of the door and their biggest worry set aside for now, it was time for Dean and Cas to talk about the elephant in the room. It wasn’t a discussion Dean was looking forward to, but it was one he knew couldn’t be avoided, not after finding out he and Cas were bound together. 

Butterflies fluttered inside his stomach as Cas turned and stepped closer. 

“I’m sorry you got injured for me,” he said, addressing a spot on the marble floor somewhere between them. “You came back for me, didn’t you?”

“You were in danger, of course I came back for you.” He wrapped his fingers around the soft material of his cloak, twisting it around in an effort to calm some of his nerves. 

“You knew I was in danger, even though you weren’t anywhere nearby.” It was a statement, not a question, and it was accompanied by an adorable tilt of Cas’ head that under normal circumstances would have made Dean go weak at the knees. As it was, he had more important stuff to focus on.

“I felt it,” he said simply, and Cas nodded, as if he’d expected that response. Dean blinked. “You know then. About us and… the whole bond thing we apparently have now.”

“Dean, you have to know that I never meant for this to happen.” Cas raised a hand, before dropping it again like he’d regretted the gesture, like he was scared to touch Dean. “I’d never bind you to me without asking you first, and really it shouldn’t even be possible to begin with. There shouldn’t be a bond without a bonding ceremony.”

“Woah, woah, Cas, slow down.” Without even realizing it, Dean had crossed the distance between them and was squeezing Cas’ hand in his own. Blue eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, a trace of apprehension lingering like a shadow over them, and Dean hated that Cas would even for a second think that Dean would blame him for this. “Look, obviously I never believed that you cast a spell behind my back. I don’t know much about familiars, but I met this guy in the woods, he thought that a witch was keeping me as a slave. Which, again, never even crossed my mind,” he hurried to add, stopping the protests he could see ready to come out of Cas’ mouth. “But he said that he and his wife are bound without ever going through with any kind of ceremony. Maybe he can help us.”

“You met a familiar out in the woods,” Cas said flatly, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “And he didn’t attack you.”

Dean shrugged, giving Cas a sheepish grin. “Must have been my dazzling personality that won him over. Anyway, from the few things he said, it didn’t seem like he was very involved with other witches other than his wife. I’m guessing people give him a hard time because he’s a werewolf.”

Cas’ eyes widened at that. “Wait, he’s a werewolf? And he’s a familiar, too? What’s his name?”

“Uh, Benny,” Dean answered. “Why, you know him?”

“I know his wife, Andrea, if he’s the guy I’m thinking about.”

“He did mention his wife’s name is Andrea.”

Castiel took a sharp breath, and for the first time squeezed Dean’s hand back. “If Benny told you the truth about becoming Andrea’s familiar without a bonding ceremony, then we’d better go and talk to them.”

The moon cast the fields ahead of them in silver light, creating sharp shadows among the trees. Ahead of them, the small, wooden hut stood perfectly silent and still, not even a hint of light or movement behind the drawn curtains. It looked empty.

Dean hesitated. Had he not followed Benny’s instructions correctly?

“I think that’s the place we’re looking for,” Castiel said, coming to stand next to him. His voice was barely louder than a whisper. 

Dean exhaled, the air rushing out of him and leaving him empty and tired. “What are we waiting for then?”

Still hurt and in pain from the battle, they shuffled along the dirt path that led to the hut. Dean raised his hand and knocked on the wooden door.

There was a beat. Then a shuffling noise inside.

Finally, Benny’s gruff voice behind the door broke the silence of the night. “Who goes there?”

“Benny, it’s me, Dean. You said that I could come here if I ever needed help.” And help he needed, indeed. And answers to all the questions plaguing him since he’d realized he was Castiel’s familiar.

The door opened a crack, a blue eye peering out at him, then the door was thrown open. “It is you,” Benny said, stepping to the side to let them in. “What happened? Are you two hurt?”

“We were in the town when the Men of Letters attacked,” Dean explained, standing as still as he could, lest he drag mud and grime inside.

“We heard about the attack. We’re only lucky Michael’s men pushed them back before they made it past the edge of the town,” Benny said, ushering them further inside.

The room they walked into was clean and tidy. Potted plants and vases took up the shelves that ran along the walls, interrupted here and there by bookcases with shelves weighed down by leather bound tomes. The fireplace across from the front door, though no fire was burning, created a warm spot for the sitting area around it.

A woman was curled in one of the armchairs, her brown eyes illuminated by the candle she had by her side to read. She gaped up at them. “Castiel! My God, what are you doing here?”

She was at Cas’ side in a second, wrapping him in a quick hug. 

So that was Benny’s wife, Dean thought, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His back hadn’t stopped sending ripples of pain through him, and he was beginning to regret not seeing a healer like Michael had suggested before coming here.

“And you must be Dean,” Andrea said, turning to take his hands in hers. She closed her eyes, her palms warming up where she was touching him. She blinked up at him. “You’re hurt. Both of you.” 

She spun around, her long skirt sweeping the floor, and dashed towards one of the bookcases. “Benny, get me some soothing cream from the workshop and clean gauze,” she instructed, piling bottles and jars into her arms. 

Benny turned to follow her instructions without question, but not before pushing Castiel and Dean towards the plush couch. 

“We’re bloody and dirty,” Cas tried to say, but Andrea waved his objections away.

“Furniture is easy to clean. Now, remove your clothes and let me take a look at those injuries.”

Unable to think of another reason not to and in too much pain to even try, Dean was the first to let the robe Michael had given him fall to the floor. 

“Well, that’s not too bad,” Andrea said, flicking her wrist to make more candles around the room flicker to life. “The soothing cream should ease some of the damage, and I have a ribwort concoction that will help with the healing.”

“I’ll do his back,” Benny said, returning to the room with the things Andrea had asked for, along with a wash basin filled with water. He gestured Dean towards a chair and made him sit backwards. 

The first touch of the wet rug against his back made Dean hiss in pain. Something wet trickled down his spine, and Dean hoped it was mostly water and not blood. 

A few feet away, Andrea’s face remained an unreadable mask as she worked on Cas’ shoulder. The wound was deeper than Dean had first thought, and even from afar he could see how much effort it took for Cas to keep still while she cleaned it and applied a green paste over it. 

Soon, the rag on his back was replaced by gentle fingers and a cool cream that immediately soothed his burned skin. 

The pain pulsing deep inside him remained as strong as before. Could it be Cas’ pain he was feeling? Dean had no idea what a magic bond meant for a witch and a familiar, and it was probably not the right time to ask. 

“What were you two doing fighting the humans?” Andrea asked, craning her neck to check Benny’s work on Dean’s back.

“I had to help my brother,” Cas said, his voice strained.

“And I had to help Cas, obviously,” Dean started to add, but a jolt of pain as Andrea pressed a gauze over Cas’ wound and whispered a quick spell stopped him. Definitely Cas’ pain then, he decided. There had to be a way to use this connection to his advantage, if only to send some comfort Cas’ way, but he couldn’t figure out how to even begin trying. Thankfully, Andrea’s spell took effect, and some of the pain eased. 

Castiel slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Why didn’t you go to a healer afterwards?” Andrea was busy wrapping his shoulder, adding dried herbs every now and then, which he assumed were for some kind of healing spell. 

“There’s something we need to ask,” Dean said.

She raised an eyebrow. “To ask? Us?”

“I think I know what it is.” Benny’s hands were gone from Dean’s back for a second, then a palm landed on his shoulder, gently turning him around to meet his gaze. “That’s your witch, ain’t he?”

Andrea’s eyes widened, her surprise finally breaking through the careful neutrality she’d maintained while she worked on Cas. “You’re a familiar?” she asked Dean. Then she turned to Castiel. “I didn’t know you had one.”

Castiel gave her a quick jerk of his good shoulder, the closest thing he could manage to a shrug. “I didn’t,” Castiel told her. He exchanged a worried look with Dean before continuing. “And I’m not sure I do. That’s why we’re here. It seems me and Dean are bonded, though we never performed a bonding ceremony. Dean helped me perform a small spell, but that would hardly count as bonding, and yet…”

“And yet Dean smells of your magic,” Benny finished for him. He dropped the bloody rags inside the basin and moved it to a table where they wouldn’t be in the way. Then he started work on bandaging Dean’s back, careful to keep it loose enough to allow for the wounds to breathe.

Castiel nodded. 

“I just want to say at this point that there was nothing Castiel ever did that was against my will,” Dean chimed in, remembering Benny’s words back in the woods. “I know it may seem strange, but you told me that you and Andrea never performed that ceremony or whatever. You’re still a bonded pair, despite that.”

A strand of Andrea’s hair came loose, and she pushed it back behind her ear. She took a moment to answer, during which Dean swore he could hear Cas hold his breath. Or maybe this bond thing was strong enough that pain wasn’t the only thing he could feel. He’d have to ask Cas about it later.

“I see,” Andrea said finally. She patted Cas back to signal that he was ready before getting up and walking to the fireplace. “What you’re talking about is a natural bond. A witch and a magical creature can be bonded without a ceremony, though it is rare. Benny and I are the only pair I’ve met so far. Apart from the two of you.”

She made a circular motion with both her hands, and a flame sparked to life inside the fireplace. “There, that's better.”

“But where does a natural bond come from?” Dean asked. Benny had finished working on him, so he retrieved his robe to pull over his naked form. Dressed again, he followed Castiel to the couch closest to the fireplace.

“No one knows for sure,” Benny answered that one. He got up with a groan and joined his wife by the fire, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s rare enough that studying natural bonds is not easy. Some say that your magics are highly compatible, others say that a strong emotional bond might trigger a magical bond as well.”

“Certain rituals might trigger a magical bond as well, but again no one case is like the other, so more likely than not there’s a bit of truth in all these theories,” Andrea added. “In our case it seems that the emotional bond came before the magical one.”

“So you fell in love first?” Castiel asked, cocking his head to the side in that way that made Dean’s heart skip a beat. God, he was adorable no matter what the situation.

“I was hunted by witches when Andrea found me injured in the forest. Unlike most people of her kind, she wasn’t scared of me, or of my curse. She took me in and nursed me back to health, and by the time I was well enough to leave I didn’t want to.” Benny gave his wife such a loving look that Dean melted a little inside. If only he could be like that with Castiel one day. “Can you blame me?” he added, nuzzling his face into his hair. “She’s gorgeous, and her cooking is to die for.”

“But how did you find out you were bonded?” Cas asked, interrupting the sweet moment. 

Instead of an answer, Andrea and Benny exchanged an unreadable look. Finally, Benny said, “Being a werewolf isn’t easy. When the full moon appears, we lose ourselves to our thirst for blood. But since Andrea found me, my transformation has been painless. Easy. The need to kill mild enough to ignore. I’d never felt this way before during a full moon. It was like I was still myself, just with a preference for raw steaks.”

“Your back,” Cas said, turning to Dean with his mouth open in amazement. “Your back and the sun. You got away with a sunburn because we’re bonded and not because the sun was already setting when you flew to the battle.”

Dean gaped back at him. “I knew it! I knew that the pain I was feeling was much less than it should’ve been.” In truth, Dean had known that his chances of survival were very slim when he flew towards the battle, but he’d still gone. Faced with the possibility of Cas getting hurt, nothing else had mattered. “We really are bonded. But how?”

“We spent a lot of time together, I guess,” Cas offered. “We performed that one spell together, too,” he added, and Dean’s insides turned to ice. 

That wasn’t the only thing they’d done that night.

“I fed from you,” he murmured. When all three blinked in his direction confused, he repeated it, louder this time. “I fed from you.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, that, too.” Cas cleared his throat, his cheeks red with a blush. Was he ashamed of letting himself become a vampire’s snack?

Something turned sour inside Dean’s stomach, and Castiel’s reaction was only half the reason for it.

“That was essentially a blood transfer, was it not?” Benny turned to his wife for confirmation and she nodded. “It would qualify as a magic ritual, and a very strong one at that. Coupled with a strong emotional bond, you have the recipe for a natural bond right there.”

“So what you’re saying,” Dean said, through gritted teeth, “is that we’re bonded because I drank his blood.”

“I mean, for all we know you’d have ended up bonded either way. The feeding probably only made it happen faster,” Andrea said, but the rest of her words were lost on Dean. There was a ringing in his ears that made all other noises fade in the background, and suddenly he felt sick. 

This was all his fault. Benny had thought Cas forced the bond on him, but he was wrong. It’d been the other way around all along. 

“Is there any way to reverse it?” he asked, cutting off the discussion the other three were having. 

Castiel’s face was unreadable, despite the muscle twitching under his jaw. Whatever he was feeling, Dean doubted he was happy.

“You’d have to go to the High Priest for that,” Andrea said. “He’s more qualified to answer that than me, I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Dean said, standing up abruptly and making the others flinch with surprise. He turned to Castiel, careful to keep his face as neutral as possible. He didn’t want anyone to know how nauseous he was. “I think it’s time to go.”

Castiel opened and closed his mouth, no sound making it out.

Andrea beat him to it. “You’re leaving already? But it could be dangerous outside.”

“Hunters might still be prowling the woods,” Benny agreed with his wife. He stood up too, his broad shoulders blocking the way to the door.

“The guards should have taken care of all the Men of Letter by now,” Cas said hesitantly. There was a silent question in his eyes, but Dean wasn’t going to answer it when they weren’t alone. He was ashamed enough already. After a moment he sighed, resigned. “I guess Michael will be looking for us.” He turned to Andrea and Benny with a tight smile. “I promise we’ll visit again.”

“Stay safe,” she said, accompanying them to the door. “And remember, you’re each other’s biggest strength.”

“Don’t linger out in the open,” Benny added, scanning the dark outline of the forest through a window. 

“We’ll be careful,” Dean promised, and pulled Cas out of the door. 

With a hasty nod and a wave, they started on their way back to the castle.They walked a while in silence, though Dean could feel Cas’ gaze on him. When he glanced over his shoulder back at the hut, he could see Benny and Andrea through the window. He had an arm wrapped around her waist, leading her back towards the seats near the fireplace, and she reached up to cup his face before pulling him down for a kiss. A pang of jealousy hit him right under the ribs.

Maybe he’d already ruined his chances of getting something like that. 

“A natural bond?” 

It was Dorothy that broke the stunned silence that followed Cas telling her and his brother about them. She was still covered in mud and blood, though both her and Michael had at least changed into a fresh set of clothes. 

Dean wished he and Cas had thought to do the same.

When he’d walked inside with Cas, Dorothy hadn’t batted an eye in his direction, but now she was narrowing her eyes at him. The intensity of her gaze made Dean want to cower. Even if Michael had explained he was no longer considered a criminal, being so intimately involved with her family was clearly a different matter. 

“It’s rare but not unheard of.” Michael had a pair of glasses hanging on for dear life from the tip of his nose, his dirty fingers leaving smudges on all the reports and papers scattered over his desk. When he rubbed his brow as if to fight back a headache, he left a streak of dirt there as well. “One involving a witch and a vampire...That’s the first case I know of.”

“It’s not like witches and vampires were ever friendly enough to allow for such a bond,” Cas said. “And what does it even matter if there was a case before us or not?” He was sitting bleary-eyed and ashen-faced, a hand cradling his injured shoulder. All those sleepless nights and the exhaustion from the battle were finally catching up to him and fast.

Another reason to get straight to the point.

“Can you break it?” Dean asked. With his foot’s insistent tapping, and the way his fingers were clasped between his knees, his anxiousness was surely visible to anyone in the room. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Michael’s hand hovered over one of the papers he was reaching for. He pushed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose as he stared Dean down. “There is a way. But it’s painful. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re absolutely sure you want to break the bond.”

“Can we think about it?” Cas asked, addressing the floor by his feet. 

“Take all the time you need. We have too many things on our hands to deal with as it is.” He nodded in Dean’s direction. “I will be sending a letter to your father, explaining your current situation. If there’s anything you’d like to send, bring it to me or Raphael by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“And please take a bath,” Dorothy added, wrinkling her nose. “You both reek.”

Water dripping from his hair, Castiel stepped back into his room. It was dark and empty save for the window left open, his curtains billowing with the breeze. 

No sign of Dean. 

A chill went down his spine.

There was only one place he could be. Castiel didn’t even check before summoning his broom and taking his usual route through the private garden. The waning moon provided enough light for him to navigate through the bushes and hedges, and soon enough he was hovering over the pond, only a few feet away from the gazebo, where a figure was sitting with his feet dangling from the edge.

Dean didn’t look in his direction as Castiel approached and dismounted. He shuffled a bit to the side, making space next to him, though, and that was as good as an invitation.

For a moment they sat silently side by side, gazing across the silver road the moon’s reflection created on the surface of the water. 

It was Castiel who spoke up first. “Are you avoiding me?”

A small smile appeared across Dean’s lips, but it was tinted with something sad. “Of course not. I just needed some fresh air to think.”

“You needed fresh air to think when you ran away from me, too?”

“No, but you did.”

“I did?” Castiel couldn’t hide the surprise from his voice. When Dean had left him up on the gazebo roof he’d gone through an endless list of reasons, but this one hadn’t made the cut. “Since when do you know what I want?”

Dean huffed. He shook his head. “Enlighten me then. What do you want?”

“I want you to be my familiar,” Castiel answered without hesitation. From the moment he’d realized what had happened back at the Meetings, though he was a little freaked, there was no doubt in his mind. This was how it was supposed to be. This was the reason why no other familiar matched with him. Castiel knew that as surely as he knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. He could feel it, deep in his bones. “If you want that too, that is. And if you don’t, I want to be with you in any way you’ll have me.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Dean. He shook his head. “Obviously I want you, Cas. I think I made that pretty clear the first time we met. And being your familiar would be awesome, but I… I’m not sure you feel the same way I do.”

“Dean, of course I do.”

Castiel reached for him, but Dean pulled his hand away.

“That’s the thing, Cas. You can’t be sure.” He took a shuddering breath, steeling himself before he met Castiel’s gaze. “I fed from you. You don’t know what it’s like, but I do. Our  _ charm _ is powerful. It can make people do everything we want. I could order you to jump inside that pond right now, and you wouldn’t even remember it tomorrow.”

Castiel felt his brows draw close together. “You… you used your charm on me?”

“What? No, Cas, I’d never do that.” Now Dean grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to make Castiel understand. Castiel wasn’t sure he did. “But what if it happened without me realizing it? I’ve done it so many times when feeding from humans that I could have… Whatever it is you’re feeling, it might not be real.”

“I know what I’m feeling,” Castiel said. “Dean, I like you. And it has nothing to do with you feeding from me. I liked you way before that. Ever since you came in through my window completely naked only to say hi to me. Because you make me laugh, and you take up all the space on my pillow even though you’re tinier than my fist when you’re transformed, and because you still managed to crack all those stupid jokes despite being hunted. I really,  _ really _ like you.”

“You mean that,” Dean said with wonder. He searched Castiel’s face. “You really do mean that.”

The answer never made it out of Castiel’s mouth, for Dean let go of his hand, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in. This time was nothing like their first tender, almost experimental kiss. This time, Castiel could feel Dean smiling against his lips, could hear the laughter bubbling up his throat. Happiness spread through him in response, bright and warm and so  _ right, _ Castiel wondered why he’d waited so long to do this. 

If Dean agreed to stay with him, he was sure he was never going to let go.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam still had chains hanging from his wrists, his skin rubbed raw from all the pulling and pushing while he’d tried to get away. That, along with the blankets he was wrapped in, was enough to gain the attention of almost every single person they passed by on their way back to the Winchester Household. Better to get the attention of humans while walking in the safety the sunlight provided, though, than dare to cross through the Vladsari Corridor, which was crawling with vampires. 

The only vampire he trusted right about now was his brother, and he was a prisoner in a faraway kingdom. Never had Sam missed Dean as much as he did right now, hurt and hunted, a concept hard to fathom, considering not knowing any news about his brother had hurt like a lost limb all this time. Even the sound of Eileen’s unfaltering steps close behind him did little to calm him down.

His grandfather’s betrayal stung, and it swirled about in his head from the moment he’d realized Samuel was behind everything: the attacks on the humans, the vampires going rogue, maybe even the attack on Michael’s life that had led to Dean’s imprisonment. His mind was going down a rabbit hole of examining every second he’d spent with his grandfather since he could remember himself. 

Had Samuel always resented John? Had he always waited for the right moment to attack, or was it a recent plot? Had he never cared for his own daughter’s children?

All the questions were making him dizzy. He was second-guessing not only everything he knew about his grandfather and his family, but also everything about every vampire under his father’s rule. For all he knew, even Bobby could be a traitor. 

“Sam, wait.” A gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him just as he was reaching to open the door. He turned around, the beginning of a question on his lips, but Eileen shook her head. “I know you don’t have the time for it, but if your grandfather really is planning on taking over the Winchester Household tonight, then we have to make sure all the servants are nowhere near the house when that happens,” she said. 

“The servants.” Sam gaped at her. How could he have forgotten? If Christian and his friends got their way, the humans would be the first to fall victim to the battle about to happen. “You’re right. We have to get them out of the house, but… but we can’t tell them about us.” He grabbed her by her shoulders, giving a light squeeze and hoping Eileen would understand. “Please, you can’t tell them the truth.”

“I won’t,” she promised without hesitation. Her shoulders were set with determination, and she was somehow standing taller than Sam remembered her. “But I won’t let them stay here either. You go to your father, warn him of the attack they’re planning, and I’ll head to the kitchen and find a way to send everyone away.”

Sam didn’t like the idea of separating at all, but he had to trust in her. She’d already proved herself by rescuing him, and she was smart and strong enough to find a way to get the servants out of the house before it was too late. Despite everything inside him wanting to keep her close, where he could protect her, he knew he had no right to. He had his family to look after, and she had her friends. Sending her away was probably safer for her anyway.

“Be careful,” was all he could tell her, fighting against the lump in his throat.

She smiled up at him and reached to cup his face with her palm. Her skin was warm and tender, and it smelled like the soap used to clean their linens. “I’m always careful, aren’t I? Now go, you have to find Master John before it’s too late.”

Sam nodded. Reluctantly, he released her, and she turned around and headed down the path running along the outer wall of the house leading to the servants’ entrance. 

The house was suspiciously empty when he walked inside, dragging the ragged ends of the blankets behind him. He had no idea where all the vampires had gone, but he was sure it wasn’t a good sign. If he was lucky enough, his father was home. 

He climbed the stairs two at a time and burst through the door, only to come up short at the sight waiting for him in his father’s office. 

John was home alright, as was Bobby, but they weren’t alone. Mick Davies was tied to a chair by John’s desk, face pale. 

Mick. Fuck. Sam had forgotten all about him.

“What happened to you?” Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

John was more direct in his approach. He crossed the room in two quick steps, pulling the blankets away from Sam to take a better look at him. “Where were you? We’ve been looking for you since last night.” His eyes landed on the chains on his wrists and his face contorted with rage. “Who did this?” he demanded, getting ahold of the chains and holding them up. Then he turned to Mick. “Was it him and his hunter friends? Did they hurt you?”

“Dad, no. Mick had nothing to do with this,” Sam said, helpless as his father dragged him towards the desk.

“He knows, Sam,” Bobby said. “He knows about us.”

“He knows about us because I told him.”

“You?” John’s face was flushed with fury. “You told him about us? You jeopardized the safety of all our people when we’re already dealing with two enemies? Why would you do that Sam?”

“Because I had no choice,” Sam said, finding Mick’s eyes and holding his gaze. He hoped he looked reassuring. “He saw one of the rogue vampires feeding on a human. He was freaking out, I had to tell him the truth. I had to explain to him we’re not hurting anyone or he’d go straight back to the Men of Letters and they’d kill us all.”

“One of the rogue vampires? Who was it?” Bobby was in front of Mick in a second, a hand fisted on the front of his shirt. The only thing still keeping him seated was the ropes around his torso, though Bobby put enough strength into his hold that the back legs of the chair lifted off the ground and Mick dipped dangerously forward. “Who was it?” he demanded again, his face only inches away from Mick’s.

“It was Christian,” Sam said. He turned to his father, pleading. “Please let him go, this is all my fault. I followed Christian last night because I had a hunch, and Mick just happened to be passing by.”

“Christian? Are you sure it was him?” John’s grip on the chains loosened, and Sam took a step back, putting a safe distance between himself and his father. “Christian is one of the rogue vampires?”

“He is,” Sam confirmed. His stomach still churned at the thought. “And it’s not just him. Grandpa Samuel is behind this, behind everything. Last night I tried to come home and tell you about what I saw, but I found Grandpa here, and he knocked me out. He kept me prisoner in an abandoned house so I wouldn’t blow his cover. I overheard Christian and Tyler talk about his plan before I escaped. He wants to take over as the Alpha. I think he wants to kill you.”

Stunned silence followed his words. John and Bobby exchanged a look.

“How did you escape?” John finally mumbled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“I—” Sam stumbled over his words. Well, since the cat was mostly out of the bag anyway… “Eileen saved me. She realized that Christian had something to do with my disappearance and she followed him.”

“So there’s a servant that knows about us, too?” John asked, more than a little bewildered. “Is there a human left in this city who isn’t ready to come after us?”

“Eileen’s not going to come after us,” Sam said, heat spreading through him. Just the thought that John considered Eileen a threat when she’d kept their secret safe for who knows how long made his chest constrict. It wasn’t right. “She won’t reveal our secret to anyone either.”

“And neither will I for that matter,” Mitch finally stuttered out. Bobby snapped his head back to him, his fist around the fabric of his shirt tightening, and Mick started shaking. “I swear to God, I didn’t tell anyone about Sam. I’m only here because I was worried about him.”

“He’s speaking the truth.” Sam hurried to get between them, forcing Bobby to let go. Mick’s chair tumbled back, and he slumped against it with a relieved ‘oof.’ Sam put himself in front of Mick, giving him a reassuring smile. “I asked him to meet me last night but I never made it.” He straightened up and faced his father. “There’s more. The Men of Letters are planning an attack on the witches. We have to send a warning.”

“It may have already happened,” Mick said, breathing heavily through his mouth. “I failed, Sam, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop them, I couldn’t even make them delay the attack. Professor Hess wouldn’t hear a word I had to say.”

Sam spun around with a gasp. “Professor Hess? She’s a Man of Letters?”

“An Elder,” Mick said. “She organized the attack. She doesn’t care that the witches are not aligned with you, she’ll attack them anyway. They’re all monsters to her.” John turned a thunderous look on him at those words, and Mick cowered away, but he didn’t stop talking. “She wants to draw the vampires in the city out. I don’t know how she’s going to do it, but I think she doesn’t know yet either.”

“Our men haven’t said anything about an attack on the witches,” John said carefully, turning to Bobby for confirmation.

Bobby shook his head and said, “If the attack happened last night we wouldn’t have gotten word yet.”

John leaned heavily on his desk, dropping his head. “Alright. So we have hunters attacking the witches, rogue vampires ready to attack us at any moment and my fucking father-in-law leading them,” he growled. “Bobby, who do we trust?”

“I’d say whoever’s in this room.”

“We make quite the formidable force,” Mick commented dryly, earning a glare from both Bobby and John.

“Plus a few of the guards that I trained personally,” Bobby added, his eyes still narrowed in Mick’s direction. “None of them have any connection to either Samuel or Christian as far as I know.”

“Dad, we can’t sit with our hands tied,” Sam said.

John waved him away. “Of course we’re not sitting with our hands tied. Now let me think for a moment.” He mumbled something while the others shuffled awkwardly around the room, giving him space. Finally, he nodded. “There’s no other way then. Bobby, we need as many men as we can get. Get them here as soon and as discreetly as you can, then get ready, you’re leaving right away to meet with the High Priest.”

Bobby’s mouth fell open. “You’re sending me away?”

John grabbed his shoulder. “You’re the only one I trust without a shred of doubt, old friend. That’s why if everything goes to hell, you have to be safe. Go to Michael, tell him we can give him the man who wanted him dead, but only if he gives us Dean back.”

“So you think Grandpa Samuel was behind the murder attempt, too,” Sam said, glad that it wasn’t him being paranoid when he’d come to the same conclusion.

“Samuel has been pushing for us to retaliate from the moment they caught Dean,” John said, his brows furrowed. “He was never a fan of the treaty I suggested, but I couldn’t have guessed he’d go out of his way to cause an all-out war. But…”

“But he had the motive, the opportunity, and the men to do it without getting his hands dirty,” Bobby finished for him. “Christian was accompanying him.”

John nodded grimly. “And Samuel was sitting right next to me at the feast. He could have slipped the knife off me without me realizing it. Whether he framed Dean or just went along with his imprisonment doesn’t matter. He still got what he wanted—he caused a rift between us and our only possible allies, while at the same time provoking the Men of Letters to attack us. With our powers divided between two enemies, we’d never see him coming.”

“Except an idjit decided to follow his cousin on a night out,” Bobby growled, though he looked nothing less than pleased with the way things had turned out. 

Sam’s face warmed at the hidden praise. 

“I can get my men ready within the hour,” Bobby told John, crossing his arms over his chest. “But a dozen men don’t make an army, and we have no idea how many vampires have sided with Samuel.”

“It doesn’t matter how many vampires have sided with him,” John said. “Samuel is a sneaky bastard, but we have an edge on him.”

“Do you?” Mick asked, cocking his head to the side, the maximum range of motion he seemed capable of while tied up. “The way I see it, the old man has you surrounded.”

“Ah, but we have something he couldn’t have anticipated.” At Mick’s blank look, John smiled sweetly, a sense of foreboding settling heavily over Sam. His voice dropped lower, his eyes darkening, and he said, “We have you.”

The heavy door creaked open. The same servant that had let Mick inside a couple nights ago was wrinkling his nose at him.

“Is the Elder inside?” Mick asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He caught fast movement somewhere to his side, right at the entrance of an alley a few feet away, but he forced his face to remain calm. He could do this. Sam, his father, and all their people depended on him.

“The Elder is busy,” the servant said and pushed the door closed.

Mick darted forward, blocking the door with his foot just in time to watch the servant press his lips together in annoyance.

“I said the Elder is busy.”

“But I need to talk to her. It’s very important, life or death.”

He saw hesitation cross the servant’s face, and he didn’t waste any time. He pressed forward, squeezing himself through the tight gap left between the door and the frame. “If you don’t let me through, we might not survive to see tomorrow. I need to talk to her.”

For a second it seemed that the servant wouldn’t budge. Then he stepped back, releasing the door. “Very well. She is in her office.”

Relief washed over Mick, though it was only a momentary feeling. The hardest part was ahead of him yet. 

Like the servant had said, Professor Hess was in her office, standing over her desk and studying a map of the town. She frowned at Mick over her wire glasses.

“You again, Mr. Davies? Who let you inside?”

Mick steeled himself. He had a mission to accomplish, he couldn’t back down now. “Professor, I come with urgent news. There’s a vampire uprising in our city, right within our walls. We have less than an hour to act.”

“A vampire uprising, you say.” She pressed her palms on the desk, all her attention still on the lines she’d been studying before he came in. “And how would someone like you find out something like this?”

“It’s true,” he said and came to stand right in front of her, with only the desk between them. “Two opposing factions are about to go to war in less than two hours. We have to stop them.”

“Stop them?” she asked, scoffing. “Our men were already defeated by the witches, our numbers are depleted, and the hunters that we do have are still not back. I say let the vampires fight it out among themselves. By the time someone comes out as a winner, we’ll be ready to sweep in and take care of whoever is left.”

“You want to let vampires fight in the middle of the city? What about the humans that will get caught in the crossfire? And don’t tell me that there’ll be no victims.”

She waved him away. “I doubt there are that many vampires hiding in the city. Even the increasing attacks in the past year can be traced back to a small group. I’m sure your information is wrong, and whatever vampire war is about to go down is nowhere near our turf.”

“Or so you’d like to think.”

Professor Hess flinched back. Mick would have, too, had he not recognized the voice.

Sam materialized from the shadows in the corner. How long he’d been hiding there, or how he’d even gotten inside the room in the first place, was a mystery. “Hello, Professor Hess.”

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her stance tight and awkward. She eyed the closed door, then the sealed windows. “How did you get in here?”

“I have my ways,” he said cooly, stepping closer to the warmth of the fireplace. “But you, Professor Hess, are wrong on so many things that I’m surprised humans have survived as long as they have.”

“Humans,” she repeated flatly, her eyes shining with something dangerous. She moved closer to her desk, a hand tracing its edge and making Mick’s stomach turn; they were treading on dangerous waters. “You speak as if you’re not one yourself.”

“If you weren’t so ignorant, maybe you’d have realized that I’m not one long ago,” Sam told her, his voice dropping lower, his tone gravely and commanding. “So many vampires hiding right under your nose, living among you, making this city prosper and you never even got suspicious.”

“You’re lying,” she snarled, her hand fisting at her side. 

“I’m not, and unless you do as I say, you’ll find out that everything I say is true in the worst possible way.” He glanced in Mick’s direction, something dark passing behind his usually warm and kind eyes.

Mick was frozen where he was standing. It was like his whole body had gone numb, a fuzzy blanket covering his mind. He could do nothing except watch the scene in front of him unfold.

“My father and his family have protected both humans and vampires for decades,” Sam said. A statement. Yes, of course, it was true; Mick could feel the sincerity of it reverberating through his bones. John Winchester had protected them. “And if the rogue vampires win tonight, all of it will be for nothing. My family and my people will be first to fall, but without someone to keep them in check, humans will be the ones to feel the worst of the consequences.”

Of course. Mick understood exactly what Sam was saying. Everything made sense.

“You’ll fight with us,” Sam said. He commanded, his eyes never leaving Professor Hess’.

_ They were going to fight with the vampires.  _

“Your dirty tricks won’t work on me, you monster,” the professor exclaimed, pulling a short sword from under her desk, her shriek of disgust slashing right through Mick’s daze. “Your pathetic  _ charm _ is only good enough for fools like Mick Davies, but I,” she stood tall, a smirk pulling at her lips, “I am strong of mind.”

_ Wait, a charm?  _ Mick had been under some kind of influence right now? But he couldn’t… how? No. The correct question was how long. Mick was a Man of Letters, it didn’t make sense that he had so readily helped the vampires. 

That weird foggy feeling!

Mick could remember feeling like that before, that night when he’d followed Sam. When Sam had asked him to stop the Men of Letters from attacking the witches. Mick had been under a charm all along. 

“I’m more than happy to let you filthy animals fight to the death.” She raised her blade to point at Sam’s chest, baring her teeth. “But you… since you’re here, I’ll teach you one last lesson. Never underestimate the Men of Letters.”

She pushed the chair away, clearing the path between them. The chair hit the bookshelf against the wall, making the lower shelves collapse. Books cluttered to the ground, and Sam cowered back on instinct. 

The warning rose up Mick’s throat, but it got caught behind his teeth. It was too late anyway.

Professor Hess jumped over her desk, fast and deadly, swinging her sword out. 

Sam fell back, but not fast enough. The sword grazed him across the chest, cutting through the fabric of his clothes and leaving a bloody trail behind. With a pained groan, he pressed a palm over the gash. His eyes snapped up to meet Professor Hess’, shining with danger. 

The professor circled Sam, effectively putting herself between him and Mick. “Watch this Mr. Davies. This is the work of real Men of Letters.” Her hold on the sword tightened, and she lunged forward. 

Sam leapt out of the way, the blade sliding down parallel to his side and finding nothing but thin air. He danced out of her reach, reaching behind him and grabbing the only thing that was there: a tall, wrought iron candle holder.

He held it in both hands, high over his chest. Mick watched impressed as Sam stood his ground, his stance that of a well-trained fighter. Maybe Professor Hess had found a match after all.

“You’re going to let so many people die because you refuse to see past your nose,” Sam spat. 

“On the contrary. I’m saving people by killing you.” She raised the sword over her head and attacked, her onslaught unrelenting. 

Sam brought the iron holder up again and again, meeting every blow head on. He managed to push her back a couple of times, but his weapon of choice was better suited for defense than offense, and the narrow space of the office limited him. 

Mick had to duck out of their way, dropping to his knees behind the heavy desk to watch as the two slashed at each other. Sam met her blade and pushed back, metal clashing with metal, only for Professor Hess to manage to sweep her sword between his hands and knock the iron holder away from him.

She had the upper hand now. With a swift move, she used the flat edge of her sword to hit Sam’s side.

He fell to his knees, the breath knocked out of him. He had a hand curled over his side, blood still dripping down his torso and tears in his eyes.

With his heart caught at his throat, Mick watched as Professor Hess stepped over Sam, her blade glinting in the light of the fireplace. “Well, well, Mr. Winchester. You’re all talk with nothing to show for it. Just like in my class.”

She raised the sword over her head for the final blow, and this time there was nowhere for Sam to go. He met Mick’s eyes behind her back. This was the end. 

“Wait,” Mick yelled before he could stop himself. He watched as Professor Hess’ hand hesitated. Emboldened, he jumped out of his hiding space. “Wait, don’t do it. There’s a better way.”

Deadly silence was scattered through the empty rooms of the Winchester Household. It’d been almost an hour since Bobby had brought his soldiers over before grabbing Ellen and riding as fast as they could for the witches. Two since Sam and that human friend of his had left to enlist the help of the Men of Letters. 

There were no vampires inside the house, save for John and Bobby’s thirteen soldiers. Humans had fled not long after Sam had arrived, abandoning their work in the middle. The last rays of the sun had slipped off the roof of the house a few minutes ago, surrendering everything to the hazy light of the moon. 

With their heartbeats in sync, they waited. 

It wasn’t long before a rumbling noise rose up in the distance. Footsteps. There was someone coming from the Vladsari Corridor. 

Sam knew better than to use that cursed road to return home, so it could only be one person. 

Samuel Campbell had finally made his move. 

With a swift gesture, John led his men into formation. The Vladsari Corridor had only one entrance to the house, and if they were lucky, the rogue vampires would only be coming through there. 

John and his soldiers surrounded the door, him with six of them on one side, while the rest followed the most senior of them, Adam, a boy barely old enough to be called a man, to the other. He was younger than even Sam, and John’s heart ached at the sight of all of them. Tonight they fought not only for their lives, but also for the lives of every vampire in this city. There was no doubt in his mind that his father-in-law had no reservations about killing anyone who opposed him.

The man had left his own grandson to the mercy of witches, for God’s sake. 

The footsteps became louder, and murmured voices rose up over the noise. 

John tightened his hold on his blade. 

The atmosphere in the house was charged, nerves spreading through his men like wildfire.

Any moment now.

The knob on the door next to John turned. It was locked. 

A beat. Long enough for John and Adam to exchange a blank look. 

Then the thundering noise of something hitting the door. Once, twice, and again. The door started moving, the hinges screaming as they fought to stay on the wall. 

With the next hit, the latch cracked. 

The string of light under the door, created by the oil lamps that were always burning in the Vladsari Corridor, had disappeared. Something— _ someone _ was blocking it. Several someones probably.

Another hit and splinters flew away from the latch. It wouldn’t be long now. John cursed at his luck. Sam was still not here. They’d have to face them head on.

The door burst open with a deafening crack, and the first rogue vampires came pouring in. 

With a roar, John led the attack. He grabbed the first one to pass through the door and smashed his head against the wall. He fell to the ground like his strings had been cut. 

The next ones were better prepared, but being forced to pass through the narrow doorway meant Adam and the rest of the soldiers picked them off easily.

“Don’t kill them,” John yelled, retreating behind his men to watch the battle unfold. “Disarm them, knock them out, but don’t kill them yet.”

There were so few of them left, it pained him that they had turned on each other, too. He wanted to end this with as few deaths on his conscience as possible.

“Yes, sir,” came the answer from his men, who pressed forward. They used the blunt edges of their weapons to push their enemies back, the noise of the fight quickly amplifying. 

They had the strategic advantage, yes, but soon it became evident it wasn’t enough. Samuel’s men were ruthless and their numbers were triple what John had. It only took two of them to break through and push further inside for chaos to ensue.

The first of Bobby’s soldiers fell with a sword through his throat, the next one was stomped to death as Samuel’s men flooded the door and filled the room. 

John met the blade of one to his right, but he had to use his knife to fight off another coming from behind him. 

Adam jumped in just in time to take on the second opponent, but there were too many. They’d be overrun soon.

“You couldn’t make things easy, could you, John?”

Blades bound over their head, John took the chance to kick his opponent and throw him down—his name was Dan, he used to play with Dean as a kid—and he spun around to face Samuel.

His father-in-law walked through the door like he was taking a stroll on a very normal day. With his hands behind his back, he looked perfectly calm and collected. Only the smirk on his face betrayed his feelings. He was winning, and he knew it.

“It doesn’t matter, in the end,” Samuel continued. “You did too little, too late.”

Samuel had them cornered. 

It was only John and nine of his soldiers left, Adam still at his side, but they were surrounded. There was no way of escaping, and there was no hope of fighting their way out.

“You can surrender,” Samuel offered, flagged by his rogue vampires. Next to him, Christian stared straight at John, no hint of regret on his face. “Or you can—”

The sound of an explosion cut off his words. It was small but close by, somewhere behind Samuel maybe. Then smoke started filling the room.

Stunned, every vampire turned to look at what was happening, but it was too late. John could already feel his lungs burning. The smoke was clawing its way down his throat, leaving behind nothing but scorched ground. He was getting dizzy, his grip on his sword becoming harder and harder to hold. 

At least through the tears in his eyes he could see that no one in the room was faring any better. 

_ The irony _ , he thought before collapsing to his knees, gasping for a single breath of oxygen.  _ Hunters would finish them all off, before Samuel could finish his rebellion. _

_ Maybe it was better that way. _

“They’re all down. Get in there and tie them up.”

Professor Hess’ voice was calm and steady. She stood to the side and allowed her hunters to pour into the room and chain up every vampire they could find. 

Mick followed them, scanning every face. His heart jumped to his throat when he came upon John, but he knew better than to talk. It had to happen this way. The toxin was still hanging heavily in the air of the room, and until it was cleared, Sam wouldn’t be able to come inside and point out which vampires to trust and which not to.

He still couldn’t believe the Elder had agreed to this plan. At the time, it’d been a way to buy some time for Sam. Charm or no charm, vampire or not, Mick couldn’t bear to see Sam killed off like he was some kind of monster, because he wasn’t. He was the guy that sometimes whispered jokes under his breath during their lectures, and who readily shared his notes.

And what he’d said was true. The Winchester family had helped the town prosper and grow in the last century, so how bad could they be?

“Once you have them secured, give them the antidote,” the Elder instructed, following inside the house after the last of the vampires were tied up. “And open the windows to let fresh air inside. We have a very jittery vampire outside waiting until it’s safe to come in and help us.”

The atmosphere in Michael’s office was heavy with contemplation. With his back turned to the three others gathered around his desk, Michael watched the comings and goings of his guards in the courtyard below. There were so many things to do, and even more to talk about, that he’d probably spent the next few days without sleep.

It was times like this he missed his parents most of all. 

“Letting the bat roam free is a mistake.” Raphael’s face was a carefully crafted mask of neutrality. He wouldn’t show his real feelings on the matter, and most importantly he wouldn’t let them cloud his judgement. It was a trait Michael relied heavily on. 

Usually. 

In this particular instance, he could appreciate the objective opinion, but he wouldn’t follow it.

“He saved my life,” he said. “And he saved Cassie’s life as well. He fought alongside us, ignoring the danger to his own life the sunlight posed. That’s proof enough that he’s no danger to us.”

“You’ve gone soft, Michael,” Raphael observed coolly.

“He’s always been soft when it concerns his family,” Zachariah sneered. His suit was crisp and spotless, his shoes shining. The only taste of battle he’d ever gotten was watching it from high up in his eagle form. Even today, he’d stayed with Raphael at the castle to take care of the witches and familiars seeking refuge from the Men of Letters’ attack. 

An honorable post, but one that didn’t give him a well-rounded view of the situation.

Thankfully, Michael had Dorothy on his side to support his decision.

“Castiel and the Winchester boy have a natural bond. That’s a fact,” she said, her hard expression daring anyone to contradict her. “Castiel also swears the night of the attack they were together, and Castiel wouldn’t lie. That’s also a fact.”

“If anything, the fact that they have a natural bond should warn us that maybe Castiel is not in his right mind,” Zachariah argued. “Can you trust a vampire not to use his charm to get his way?”

Michael had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Their charm doesn’t work on the witch they’re bonded with.”

“It’s why they were helpless when the witches enslaved them,” Dorothy said. Her words hung heavy over them.

“Even if it wasn’t the Winchester boy,” Raphael said slowly, “a vampire  _ did _ try to kill you. And he had John Winchester’s knife. That’s also a fact that can’t be denied.”

Michael could feel three sets of eyes boring holes into his back. Down in the courtyard, two figures appeared from the hedge maze, walking with their heads bowed close together. One of them, Michael could recognize among a thousand strangers. The other had a slightly taller frame and a bow-legged gait. 

“I’m preparing a letter for John Winchester,” Michael said, pushing his hands in his pockets. His gaze followed the two figures as they strolled towards the greenhouses. So many things to do. “I’ve asked Dean to write one, too. We’ll play it by the ear, until we have a better plan.”

“And what about the emergency situation here?” Zachariah enquired. 

“We keep our guards on high alert,” Raphael said. “I suggest we alter the spell of the barrier, though, to catch anything that comes and goes. Enforcing a lockdown might be too much, but we should at least make sure whoever crosses the barrier is recorded.”

“I agree. We’ll fix the spell first thing tomorrow morning. Until then we keep our guards patrolling the grounds, and every familiar that can fly goes out scouting.” Michael turned around, his hands still clasped behind his back.

Raphael was bent over his papes, hastily writing, but Zachariah looked like he’d smelled something rotten.“So we’re just going to let the vampire play house with your brother?” he asked, his nose curling.

“He’s under  _ my _ protection. He has already suffered enough at our hands.” Michael was not going to budge on that. “Now go and make sure all the men know their orders.”

Zachariah wasn’t pleased, but he obediently followed his witch out of the room.

Now that it was just the two of them, Dorothy joined Michael by the window. The figures had long since disappeared in the darkness, but she hummed, watching with mild interest at the dark stretch of land in front of the castle.

“I think your brother has a new boyfriend,” she said.

Despite the worry that pressed around his lungs, Michael smiled. “I think my brother has bitten off more than he can chew this time.”

There was a moment during which Dorothy’s face fought to remain expressionless. Then a muscle twitched, and her composure cracked. “I don’t think Cassie’s the one doing the biting in this relationship,” she told him, tongue in cheek, and her childish grin made Michael roll his eyes.

“And here I thought we were having a serious conversation.”

“We are.”

“The other witches are going to fight him,” Michael said. If there was one person he could entrust with his deepest fear, it was her: his biggest support and most faithful friend. “No matter what I say or do, others will still look at him like he’s…”

“Crazy? Irresponsible, ridiculous, a traitor?” she asked, then scoffed. “They thought that about you, too, when I first came here. A fae and a witch working together willingly? That wasn’t even a possibility in our ancestors’ wildest dreams, and yet here we are.”

“The history between fae and witches isn’t as burdened as the one between witches and vampires.”

“Just because we didn’t give you time to put a leash around our necks, doesn’t mean that we held much affection for you.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Hey, we fought through sweat and tears to build a bridge between our people. Why can’t Castiel and Dean do the same?”

“You think they’re going to keep the bond then?” Michael asked, and she shrugged.

“Does it matter? Whether Dean stays as Castiel’s familiar or not, these past couple of weeks have changed them both irrevocably. They’ve changed all of us. There’s a new era dawning, Michael, and we can’t sit around and worry. We have to meet it head on and be ready to adjust.”

Warmth flooded him. Like always, she was right. “We have too many open issues to address. The vampire who tried to kill me, John Winchester, the Men of Letters. The list goes on and on.”

“So we start with John Winchester, like you said.” She tossed her hair back, exuding all the confidence he wasn’t feeling. “It’s the easiest one to solve right now, anyway. We’ll see what we’ll do with everything else later. If we manage to solve our misunderstanding with the Alpha, we won’t have to deal with all the others alone.”

“Right.” He nodded, his shoulders shagging with all the problems sitting on them. “So you don’t think John was behind the attack?”

“In hindsight, I don’t think John is the kind of man to send his own son with a knife that has his initials to kill the man who he came all the way out here to meet.” She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “I think we should be looking for the culprit among the other vampires that were with him.”

“One problem at a time, please.” His temples were throbbing with pain, ready to explode. Honestly, he had enough excitement for a whole year, but again, there were so many things to be done.

She squeezed his shoulder gently. “Hey, stop worrying. We’ll deal with everything, one step at a time.”

“Right, right. Of course.” He placed his hand over hers, wishing he could borrow some of her composure. The one thing that kept him from losing it was that he knew, whatever else fate threw at them, he had Dorothy and Cassie to lean on.

And if everything went well, he’d have John Winchester’s support as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam watched as the Men of Letters carried the unconscious vampires to the courtyard, laying them side by side. If he hadn’t known about the powerful toxin keeping them all paralysed and passed out, he’d think them dead. But they weren’t, not yet at least. If Professor Hess kept her word, none of them would die. 

“So Mr. Winchester, which ones do we trust?”

Speak of the devil.

Several heads turned to watch him, Mick included. 

Sam swallowed. Who to trust, indeed.

“My father.” He pointed at John bound head to toe a few feet away from him. Then he came up blank. He was sure some of the others were Bobby’s men, but he’d left with Mick before they arrived, and he couldn’t tell them apart from Samuel’s men even if he tried. He walked down the line, doing the second best thing. 

“This is my grandfather, Samuel. He organized all the attacks against the humans.” The ones where their memories weren’t erased, he added in his head, before searching for Christian and Tyler. “These two, too. Christian is the one Mick saw the other night.”

Professor Hess nodded. “Very well. These three will be taken to a cell immediately, and your father will be released. The rest we’ll figure out after we’ve got them all awake.” She turned to glance behind her. “Mr. Davies? Do you have the antidote?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Mick said and stepped forward. He had a small vial with a reddish liquid inside. It didn’t look like enough for all the vampires who needed it, but Sam had no other choice but to trust the humans. 

Professor Hess could have killed him back in her office, and he was only saved by Mick jumping in to tell her that by killing all of the vampires, they were also dooming the city’s economy. Who would have thought that Grandpa Henry’s love for trade, which had been mocked in his time only for vampires and humans alike to live off it in the years since then, would be the reason they were all saved? 

Dean would have loved this, had he been there. 

Now it was only a matter of whether it could keep them alive in the long run as well. 

Mick crouched over John while two Men of Letters were dragging Samuel, Christian and Tyler away. The antidote would need a few minutes to work and wake John up. Until then, and until he was well enough to meet with Professor Hess and start negotiating the terms of the vampires remaining in the city, everything was hanging by a thread. 

He hoped that at least Bobby and Ellen would be luckier in getting Dean back.

The patrols around the grounds of the witch town had become more frequent. On the other hand, security measures inside the magical barrier became more loose. There was no longer the need to search for a fugitive, since the fugitive was more of an honored guest now.

A giant weight had been lifted off Castiel’s shoulder, and he slept the first day away curled in bed with Dean. Both of them were too tired to do anything else. 

Their second day together was spent touring the greenhouses, where Castiel showed Dean the plants they were cultivating and what his research was on. What caught Dean’s attention though—and Cas had seen it coming—were the Blood Marigolds. 

The first time he drank one would forever be imprinted in Castiel’s brain. Dean’s face lit up, eyes growing wide while a drop of juice hung from his lower lip.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, looking between the glass of juice in his hands and Castiel with a dazed expression. “It doesn’t taste like blood, but… it’s fulfilling. It’s better than meat.”

Castiel grinned at him. “This is magic.” The area of the greenhouse they were in was mostly empty, so he didn’t hesitate to pull Dean in for a kiss. He tasted like the juice, and Castiel could feel him smiling against his lips. 

It was intoxicating. 

Castiel had been sure of his feelings the night he’d kissed Dean, but what he felt now... It was so much stronger. It was like when he wasn’t with Dean, part of him was missing. He was sure some of it was due to their magical bond. He could feel it in the way his magic sang every time he used it near Dean. He couldn’t say that he minded. It was everything his friends and Michael had ever tried to explain to him about a witch and a familiar, and so much better. Not finding anyone at the Meetings was worth it if he got to keep Dean. 

A soft gasp made them pull away in a hurry. They weren’t hiding, but Michael had advised caution, as most witches wouldn’t be comfortable with their bond yet. 

It wasn’t just any witch. It was Hannah. 

She looked at them, mouth hanging open. “Castiel,” she said. “I haven’t seen you since…” She trailed off.

Castiel knew exactly when the last time they’d seen each other was: right before the Men of Letters attacked. When everyone realized it was Castiel who helped Dean escape. Inias was still in the infirmary recovering, and Castiel hadn’t tried visiting him, but all his other friends were loud in their absence from the castle grounds. 

A calculated move on their part, no wonder. 

Explaining the situation to his brother had fixed Dean’s major problem, but it had done nothing to help Castiel’s. He’d betrayed his friends, and he needed to make it up to them somehow.

The silence stretched between them, Castiel struggling to find the words he wanted to say, and Dean waiting awkwardly at his side. 

Hannah ducked her head. “I’ll just go.”

“No, wait,” Cas said. He touched Dean on the elbow, a silent plea to wait for him here, and he walked towards her. “Can we talk? I just want to explain.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you can explain. You lied to me. You made Inias lose his job.”

“I know. I know. I was a horrible friend, but please, give me a chance.”

She sized him up, her hold on the pot in her hands tightening. Then, “Alright. But you have to talk to all of us.  _ Inias included.” _ She cocked her head, lips pressing into a thin line, as if to say this was Castiel’s last chance and he better not waste it.

He wasn’t planning to.

“Tomorrow? We can all go to the infirmary.”

“Let me talk with the others,” she said. “Tomorrow might be too soon, but I’ll come get you if they agree.”

Dean came to stand next to Castiel as she walked away, peering at her from under his hood. “Damn, I really made a mess here, didn’t I?”

“No,” Castiel said. He sighed. “I made the mess myself. You had nothing to do with it.”

It took another two days before Hannah showed up, knocking on Castiel’s door. 

“We could go today, if you want?” she asked, an awkward smile pulling her lips up.

Castiel blinked. Then he rushed to grab his coat and follow her. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Dean, lazily sprawled on the bed with a book about magical creatures, barely looked up to wave goodbye. While he’d been confined to Castiel’s room, he went through most of the books Castiel owned, but there were still a couple left for him to read. It was a nice change of pace for both of them. Exploring the castle and the town and seeing it through Dean’s eyes like it was the first time was fun, but it meant they had to take extra measures to avoid the sunlight, and they also had to be mindful of other people watching them. With the exception of Andrea and Benny, witches and familiars alike didn’t look happy to see Dean wandering around free.

“The others should be there already,” Hannah said. She walked with her back straight, facing only forward. It reminded Castiel of all the times he’d seen her talking with one of their professors. Not a good sign. 

The infirmary was buzzing with activity. It wasn’t just their guards that had been injured during the attack, but their families and friends, as well as the handful of Men of Letters they’d caught as prisoners that were kept in secured rooms under the watchful eyes of both healers and guards.

Hannah led him through the maze of rooms and halls with confidence, stopping in front of a closed door. She took a deep steadying breath, then turned to him. “I’d suggest you don’t say too much about Dean. At least not today.”

“Hannah,” Castiel started, but she shook her head. 

“Not today, Castiel.”

With that, she pushed the door open, plastering a smile on her face, and went inside. Castiel followed her, not at all surprised at the less than cheerful faces that greeted him.

“Hello, Cas,” Charlie said. She was sitting on the windowsill next to Anna, who nodded.

Inias said nothing. He was lying in the bed in the middle of the small room, bandages covering his right arm, a grim expression all over his face, mirrored by Kevin, who had dragged a chair right next to his bed. Castiel’s gaze fell to their clasped hands, and didn’t miss the way Kevin’s hold tightened. 

His stomach tightened in response. 

“Hello,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Hannah had moved to claim the second and last chair in the room, leaving him to stand alone before them. 

It was like being in a courtroom, facing the jury. It wasn’t too far off from reality. 

“I guess I should explain.”

“I don’t think you have much to say,” Inias said, voice hard.

“Inias,” Anna chastised him, shooting a glare in his direction.

“We should at least give him a chance,” Charlie chimed in.

“Oh because he gave us any chance to listen to him?” Inias asked. “Or help him?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Castiel said, raising his voice to be heard over the argument. Five heads snapped in his direction. “I couldn’t tell you anything because you wouldn’t believe me. And why would you? I was the only one who didn’t think Dean tried to kill Michael.”

“But why?” Anna asked. 

Castiel brought a hand to rub the back of his neck. Except for Michael and Dorothy, he’d never told anyone this before. “He couldn’t have attacked Michael, because… well, he was with me that night.”

Stunned silence followed his words. Then Kevin curled his nose in disgust. “I did not need  _ that _ mental image.”

“Getting it on with the vampire? Good job, Cas,” Charlie said, raising her hand for a high five, only for Anna to grab it and lower it again. Charlie pouted. “I’m just saying. He’s good looking.”

“That’s not what it was like,” Castiel said. His whole face was burning. “We just talked.”

Charlie wiggled her eyebrows. “Sure, that’s what we call it these days.”

“Charlie,” Anna snapped. 

“Even if it was like that,” Kevin said, his brows furrowing, “why didn’t you tell us? We could have figured out a way to help you.”

“One that maybe wouldn’t have ended with me being kicked out of the Royal Guard,” Inias said, shooting daggers in Castiel’s direction.

“And that wouldn’t involve lying to everyone you know,” Hannah added. She looked genuinely hurt, but there was little Castiel could say to make this right.

They were right, about everything they were telling him.

“You know what hurts the most?” Inias said all of a sudden. “It’s not that you chose a vampire over your friends. It’s that you took advantage of what you knew about us to hurt us.”

Castiel’s mouth went dry. “I didn’t want for this to happen. I didn’t want for any of this to happen. I didn’t know Dorothy would kick you out of the Guard, and I asked her—”

“It doesn’t matter what you do to fix this, Castiel,” Kevin cut him off. “How are we ever going to trust you again?”

“I’ll do anything you want,” Castiel said, desperate. “Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.”

Inias gazed around the room, his face an unreadable mask. Then he shook his head. “I think you need to leave.”

Castiel opened his mouth. He closed it. He couldn’t find anything to say other than, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “I’m sorry, too.”

Castiel let the door swing closed behind him. Healers and familiars were rushing around him like busy bees, ignorant of the silence inside Castiel. He took a shaky breath. 

This was it then. He’d really screwed up his friendships bad enough that there was no going back. There was nothing else for him here.

With that thought stuck in his head, he stumbled away.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Hannah had followed him outside.

She opened and closed her mouth. 

Castiel watched her, guarded.

“I really am sorry,” she finally said. “I hate that we’re ganging up on you even if you deserve it.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice small.

“I just wanted to say that… I’d like to talk some time. Maybe you can tell me more about Dean and, and what happened that night.”

Despite telling himself that he shouldn’t, Castiel perked up. “You’d listen?”

She huffed. “Inias is mad at you now, but I think in your shoes he’d have done the same for Kevin. He just hasn’t realized it yet.”

“That’s not an excuse. It’s not an excuse for lying to you either.”

“I’m not saying I’m forgiving you,” she said. “I’m only saying that talking would be a good start.”

“Whenever you’re free.”

She nodded, the line of her shoulders softer somehow. Like a weight had been lifted off them, just like Castiel felt. 

“I’ll see you later then,” she said.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

Castiel watched her walk back to Inias’ room. Maybe not everything was lost just yet.

Castiel had been down since visiting his guard friend at the infirmary, and though Dean did his best to cheer him up, there was nothing that worked. Leaving him to work through his frustration on his own seemed to be the best choice, so Dean gave him space, waiting for when Cas would need a distraction from his misery.

Meanwhile, he’d written a letter to his father, which Michael had sent along with his own letter a couple of days ago. He knew it was still too early for the letter to have been delivered, let alone for an answer to arrive, but Dean couldn’t help being anxious about what his father had to say about everything. 

What he didn’t expect was to get something even better than a letter back. 

A guard came to find them in Cas’ room, instructing them to meet the High Priest at the grand entrance of the castle. Exchanging a perplexed look, Dean and Cas quickly got ready—Dean pulling on the cloak he wore when walking around during the day, and Cas putting on clothes, for he’d spent the last couple of days sulking in bed—and hurried downstairs. 

Michael was standing right outside the gigantic door, Dorothy to his side, guards standing all around them. Dean was instantly struck with a weird sense of déjà vu, like he was reliving the day he’d rode up to this very gate with his father and Sammy, except this time he was standing on the other side. 

Cas moved to his brother’s side without hesitation. Was Dean supposed to do the same? He wasn’t part of the High Priest’s family—he wasn’t even a witch—but he  _ was _ asked to come down here and he  _ was _ Cas’ familiar as well as his boyfriend; Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. He still couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream.

Feeling warm all over, he stepped forward, while making sure to stay firmly behind Cas, Michael and Dorothy. 

A carriage appeared from the edge of the horizon. 

Dean had to stop himself from rubbing at his eyes. He knew that carriage. He’d rode in it countless times. He’d arrived here in it. 

His heart wanted to soar at the sight of it, but he tried not to get his hopes up. Maybe it wasn’t John. Maybe it was a messenger or something. 

The carriage was accompanied by witch soldiers, and Raphael was leading the company. Zach was perched on the roof. Except for the driver, covered from head to toe in warm materials, there wasn’t a vampire in sight. 

As the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the castle, Dean held his breath. The door opened, and a dark-dressed figure jumped off, before turning to offer his hand for one more person to get out. Dean couldn’t see their faces under their hoods, but he knew the way the man’s shoulders slouched slightly, and he would recognize the way the woman slapped his hand away to jump down on her own anywhere.

“Bobby! Ellen!” He pushed past the witches, not caring about protocols and rules. With everything going on the last couple of weeks, he hadn’t realized how much he missed his family until he saw them right in front of him.

Ellen ran forward to meet him, enveloping him in a tight hug. None of the guards tried to stop them.

“Oh, thank God. You’re okay.”

She pulled away and grabbed his face in both hands, lifting it to be able to look at him under their hoods. Her gloved hands were harsh against his skin, her eyes sharp as she examined every inch of him that wasn’t covered from the sun. “You look good.” She exhaled in relief. 

“You had us worried there for a minute there, idjit,” Bobby growled, coming to stand next to them.

Dean chuckled, unable to hide his glee. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Somebody cleared their throat behind them. All three of them turned to look, and Michael gave them an awkward smile. 

“Maybe we should take this reunion back to my office,” he said, his eyes flitting to someone behind them—Raphael, probably—before landing on Dean. “I think it will be more comfortable for all of us.”

Dean felt Ellen stiffen next to him, and he hurried to say, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Come on, it’ll be easier to talk without the cloaks and gloves.”

Ellen’s mouth pressed into a thin line. 

Bobby placed a hand on her shoulder before nodding.

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Bobby and Ellen were obviously hesitant to follow Michael inside a castle filled with guards and witches they didn’t trust, so Dean had to take the lead for them. If either of them was surprised Dean was walking around free instead of being in a cell, neither said it. Dean was too busy bombarding both of them with questions to give them the opportunity to ask him anything back.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Dad and Sammy? Did you travel without any of our soldiers?”

“Calm down, boy,” Bobby told him. “We’ll talk about everything, I promise.” He’d opted to stay standing next to Ellen, who was seated in one of the chairs in front of Michael’s desk. From the corner of his eye, he watched Zachariah, who was leaning against the far wall with a smirk on his face. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Dean shifted forward in his seat, bouncing his knee. Cas placed a hand on his thigh to calm him down, and Dean didn’t miss the way Ellen raised an eyebrow in their direction. They surely had a lot to talk about. 

Michael cleared his throat. “I think we need to start with an apology,” he said, at the same time Bobby said, “There have been some developments you need to be aware of.”

They stopped, staring at each other surprised.

A sense of foreboding settled heavy over Dean. Now that some of the excitement had calmed down, he could see that Bobby and Ellen being here alone wasn’t a good sign. “Bobby, what happened?”

Bobby’s mouth twisted uncomfortably. “Let’s take everything from the beginning.”

As Bobby told them everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, Dean could feel Cas’ hand on his thigh tightening and his own stomach sinking. His head was reeling. Grandpa Samuel had organized the attack against Michael, he’d let Dean rot in prison, then turned around and used the rogue vampires he’d unleashed on the humans to attack John. 

Shit, and he thought he had it bad. 

When Bobby stopped talking, Dean’s ears were ringing. But wait, something was wrong. Because if what Bobby was saying was the truth, then…

“You left Dad to deal with all that on his own? He could be dead, Bobby.”

“I had no choice,” Bobby said. “Our spies—” he side-eyed Michael at that, but his face remained unchanged, “—didn’t have any news about you since you broke out of prison, and we couldn’t risk not interfering before the witches caught you again, or worse, the Men of Letters decided on a second attack.”

“We wouldn’t be of any help to your father, but we could come here and save you,” Ellen added, taking Dean’s hands on her own. “We don’t know what happened back home, but we do know now that you’re safe, and that means that there’s hope for the future.”

“The future,” Dean said, his throat suddenly dry. “What are you talking about?”

Ellen patted his hand in comfort. “Dean, we have to be prepared for the worst now. If your father has truly fallen, you’re our best chance at taking back control of the Council. The heads of the main families will rally behind a Winchester much more readily than they will behind me or Bobby.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “What you’re suggesting is we go to war.”

“We’re already at war,” Bobby corrected him. He turned to Michael. “I had prepared a big speech to convince you to help us, but that was when you still thought Dean tried to kill you. I’m… I’m not sure what to say, considering I have no idea where we stand anymore.”

“Where we stand,” Michael said, exchanging a quick, unreadable look with Cas, “is united against a common threat. Life here hasn’t been as exciting as it’s been for you, but there are a few complications that have come up in the past few days.”

“What Michael is trying to say,” Cas said, speaking up for the first time since Ellen and Bobby had arrived, “is that Dean and I…” He turned to Dean, a frown between his brows. “Dean and I, well…”

“What  _ Cas _ is trying to say is that I’m his familiar now,” Dean cut him off. The news would be easier to stomach coming from him. Probably. He grabbed Cas’ hand. “Oh, and he’s also my boyfriend.”

Matching expressions of shock were painted over Bobby’s and Ellen’s faces. Dean didn’t think he’d seen Ellen with her mouth hanging open before. 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry for not properly introducing myself earlier.” Cas stood up, pulling Dean along with him. He offered Bobby his free hand. “I’m Castiel Novak, Michael’s brother.”

It was Ellen that returned Cas’ handshake, with enough force to crush his bones, judging from the sense of pain that rippled through Dean, catching him by surprise. This whole bond thing was hard to get used to. He hoped that at least the warm fuzziness her hug had caused in his chest was also trickling through the bond to let Cas know that this was a good thing. And that he should also try to make a good impression.

“So, as you can see, we have a reason to be personally involved with your situation,” Michael said, keeping his expression guarded. “But I think working together to stop Samuel and stop the humans from organizing a new attack against us would have been our priority anyway.”

“So what do you suggest?” Bobby asked.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Dorothy jumped in, only to get a blank expression from both Ellen and Bobby.

“We’re not sending you away,” Raphael said. “But from what you’re telling us, it’s urgent that you make it back to your Alpha as soon as possible.”

Bobby turned to Ellen, and she huffed. “Don’t look at me. I’m good to travel right now.”

Dorothy nodded. “Very well, then we’ll see how many of our men we can spare, and I’ll send word down to our kitchens to prepare provisions for you.”

“I think we can be ready by nightfall,” Raphael said, turning to Dorothy for confirmation. “That gives you some time to rest as well.”

“I’m coming, too,” Cas said. 

“No,” Michael and Dean snapped in unison, and internally, Dean agreed..

He would forever be grateful to Cas for wanting to be there for him, but this was not the time. Besides, he’d feel much better knowing Cas was here and safe, and not walking straight into Samuel’s hands. For all they knew, he, Bobby and Ellen were the only vampires left to oppose him.

“We can’t risk it,” Michael said, voicing Dean’s thoughts. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous.”

“But I can fight,” Cas tried to argue. He turned to Dean, big blue eyes pleading for him to agree. “We are stronger together. You know it, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, squeezing his hand. “But I think it’s better if you stay here.”

“It’s settled then,” Ellen said. “We leave as soon as your guards are ready.”

It wasn’t fair that Castiel had to stay behind while Dean was walking straight into the lion’s den. Maybe Dean thought he was protecting him, but Castiel knew he wouldn’t be sleeping until he knew Dean was safe and sound, and the fastest way to accomplish that was to go with him and protect him.

“Are you sure you can’t sneak me into your baggage?” He was lying on the bed, pouting. He watched as Dean shoved the few things he had into a sack.

“No, because a Cas-shaped bag would be suspicious, and also because I really want you to stay here.”

“I’ll miss you, though.” Castiel pushed himself on his elbows. He didn’t have to see the way Dean’s cheeks reddened at the simple declaration. He could feel the pleased embarrassment trickle through their bond, making his nerve endings tingle. He was so easy to tease. Not that Cas was teasing at the moment. He was dead serious.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Dean said, biting down a smile.

Castiel grinned, rolling closer to the edge of the bed so he could cup Dean’s face and pull him lower and into a slow kiss. “Obviously,” he whispered right against his lips.

Dean rolled his eyes, though their bond was shining bright with amusement. “I think I’m spoiling you,” he said, faking a huff.

“Maybe,” Castiel agreed. “But I still wish you’d let me come with you.”

“Cas, we’ve talked about this. It’s too dangerous.” Dean dropped on the bed and lay down so his head was on Castiel’s stomach Without hesitation, Castiel started carding his fingers through his hair. “And I can't focus on helping my dad—” his voice faltered at that, a painful ping hitting Castiel too, “—if I’m worried about you, too.”

That Castiel could respect. He didn’t agree, but he could respect it. However, he was getting tired of everyone he cared about treating him like a child. Castiel was a grown up. He could handle himself. 

Dean turned his head to press more firmly into Castiel’s touch. “Promise me you’ll stay here?”

Castiel hesitated.

“Please?” Dean pressed.

“Alright.” Castiel sighed, spreading his fingers over Dean’s scalp. If this was the last few hours they were spending together, he didn’t want to spend them fighting. “Alright, I promise. But you have to promise to send me a letter as soon as you arrive to tell me how things are back home.”

Dean grinned wickedly up at him. “I can do better than that.”

“Oh can you?” Castiel asked, delighted at the chance to egg Dean on. 

“I can make sure you have a lot to think about while I’m away,” Dean said, voice dropping low. He climbed on top of Castiel, pushing their lips together with a slow, enticing pace that sent Castiel’s mind straight out the window. He traced a path down Dean’s spine with the pads of his fingers, feeling the shiver that followed it vibrate through him.

They didn’t have much time left, but they had to do the best they could with what they had.

At least until Castiel put his plan into motion.

Castiel had stood by Michael’s and Dorothy’s side, bidding Dean and his family farewell like the proper and dutiful brother of the High Priest he was. But now that the carriage was almost out of sight, and he was excused to head up to his room alone, it was time to act.

He hadn’t packed much, just a couple changes of clothes. It was better to be lightweight and fast. His broom was already waiting by his window, and he lost no time swinging his foot over it. 

The sun had set half an hour ago, but the darkness didn’t provide the cover he needed. A quick illusion charm fixed that problem. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long without Dean there to help him, but it had to be enough. He only needed it until he was past the barrier.

While Dean was finishing packing, he’d wracked his brain to find a way to get past the barrier without anyone noticing him. He’d decided the best solution was to make his illusion as strong as possible, then fly right through that part of the barrier while the carriage and the two dozen guards Dorothy had lent Bobby were passing through. Hopefully, no one would notice the one extra change in magic.

With his heart in his throat, he flew high above the path, keeping the roof of the carriage in his sight. Dean was in there, unaware that Castiel was following them. He was going to be mad when he found out. He was also going to realize that Castiel was right: they were stronger together, and they had to stick together. Even if that meant death.

He ran through the plan in mind several times while they made their way towards the edge of the town, where the designated spot that acted as a gate to the barrier worked. Charlie and Anna were both on duty escorting the carriage back to Dean’s hometown, and they were the two most likely to see through his illusion. They knew his magic, and if they got even a whiff of it, his plan would go down the drain.

The carriage rolled closer to the barrier, flagged on both sides by guards. Castiel held his breath, keeping his distance for a while longer. Just a couple more seconds.

He saw the horses crossing the dim curtain of light, and he kicked his broom forward. He flew right over the carriage, so close that he almost touched it. The air whooshed around him, and Charlie snapped her head around, squinting in his direction.

His heart almost fell out of his chest, but then the carriage was through, and he was through along with it, and nobody was stopping them. Charlie shook her head as if she was seeing things and turned to face straight ahead again.

He did it!

Now he only had to follow the carriage from a safe distance until they reached the Winchester Household. Once there, Dean would have no choice but to keep him around.

“—and Cas has that book on fae, which—”

“Ugh, enough already,” Bobby complained, rolling his eyes. “I swear we should have brought that boy with us just to save me from having to endure all this pining.”

“I ain’t pining,” Dean scoffed and turned away, crossing his arms to convey his offense. In reality, he was hiding the blush coloring his face. “I’m just bored. We’ve been travelling non-stop for almost a week, and we still haven’t heard a word back on what’s going on with Dad and Grandad.”

“No news is good news,” Ellen pointed out. “If anything big had happened, we’d have heard by now.”

The carriage rattled as it passed over a stone, then the driver turned the horses and changed their direction. So far they’d only stopped for the witch guards to get the bare minimum of rest before they started riding again. The faster they made it home, the better odds they had of saving Dad and Sammy. Bobby and Dean bickered a lot, but they both knew it was easier to argue—and think—about trivial stuff, like how much he missed Cas, than worry about what was waiting for them back home.

All the spies Bobby had in witch territory had been sent ahead to scout the situation. It shouldn’t be too long now, since they were travelling faster, and they’d arrived a day earlier than Dean’s party. Their carriage was only five minutes from the town borders now, and they’d decided to wait there until they got some kind of news. 

A soft knock came on his door.

Bobby and Ellen pressed themselves deeper into the shadows, bringing their hoods up. Dean drew the curtain back a bit, careful not to let any sunlight inside. He knew that the sun wouldn’t hurt him as badly now that he was bound to Castiel, but being so far away from him, he didn’t want to risk it.

A familiar set of pale blue eyes peered up at him, framed by long red hair. 

“We’re setting up camp for now. We’ll set up patrols to make sure no one sneak up on us,” Anna said, giving him a tight nod.

“Thank you, Anna,” Dean said. His words were stiff and awkward, even to his ears, but how else was he supposed to talk to her? She’d stopped talking to Castiel because he’d helped Dean. 

Two hours later, when night had spread its veil over them and the moon was hidden behind heavy clouds, they got the news they were waiting for. One of their spies came back, saying that both John and Sam had been spotted inside the house, as well as a few of the human servants. There was no sign of Samuel so far.

Relief washed warmly through Dean. For a moment, he thought his legs would give out. Somehow he remained standing, and managed to swallow past the lump in his throat. His family was safe. Thank God.

“It’s decided then,” Bobby said, nodding in Dean’s direction. “Let your new friends know. We’re heading back home immediately.”

John’s eyes were stinging. He put his pen down and pressed his lids with the pads of his fingers, trying to relieve some of the pain. How long had he been staring at the same sentence? He had no idea. He could remember it was right after lunch he started, and it was already night now.

He sighed, pushing the papers away. He needed a break. Not that the other things he had to do were any better. There was a letter from Michael on his desk, but he hadn’t had the time to open it yet.

“Dad!” Sam burst through the door, a bundle of unsuppressed excitement. “Dad, they’re back. Bobby and Ellen are back, and Dean is with them.”

They ran together down to the stables, where the carriage was just being unloaded. To John’s surprise, the stables were full of horses and unfamiliar people. Witches. They had taken their armor off to enter the town without drawing any attention, but John could recognize some of them from his visit to the High Priest.

The guards shuffled around, creating an opening, and there, finally, was Dean. 

“Dad!” Dean darted forward, wrapping his arms around his father. John returned it as tightly as he could. 

He had to blink the tears away before speaking. “You’re safe. And you’re back.” He turned to Bobby, still unable to believe this was happening. “How did you convince them?”

“Well…” Bobby started. He hesitated. “Well, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Dad, you don’t have to fight with the witches,” Dean said, taking over from Bobby. “They know it wasn’t me who tried to kill Michael, and they know you would never order his murder.”

“Dean, slow down,” John ordered, trying to make sense of everything the boy was saying. 

“Bobby said Samuel was behind the attack, and he wanted to kill you, too. That’s why Michael sent his guards to help us. The treaty is still happening after we take care of him. And you can meet Cas when we go back, I’m sure you’ll like him.”

John shook his head. “What… Who’s Cas?”

Dean chuckled. “Michael’s brother. You know Cas. He’s my—I’m his familiar.”

The words pierced John like a knife through the gut. What was Dean telling him?

Catching the change in John’s expression, Dean faltered. He didn’t look as sure of himself anymore. “I mean… you know about me and Cas, right? I sent you a letter. Michael sent you a letter, too. It should have arrived.” 

John’s stomach lurched. A horrified expression was dawning on Dean’s face, though not more horrified than what John felt. What was all this talk about witches, and, and, and—familiars? His brain stuttered over the thought for a moment. Then cold crept under his skin, running down his back. 

“You’re a witch’s familiar?” he hissed, unable to control the crack in his voice.

“I—” Dean stummered, taking a step back. He looked around him for help.

The witch guards stood emotionless around them. They were surrounded, and John’s blood was quickly boiling with rage.

“Get out,” he roared. When they blinked back at him, he grabbed the one nearest to him and physically dragged her towards the entrance. “Out, the lot of you. You dare try and act like my friends while you’ve spent the past weeks brainwashing my own son.”

“John,” Ellen said, wrapping her arms around herself. She wouldn’t dare come near him. “John, please listen to what we’re trying to tell you.”

“I have nothing to listen to,” John said, going for the next guard he could get his hands on. Synchronized, the guards drew their short swords and pointed them at him, the edges glimmering threatenly. “Get out of my house.”

“We travelled all the way out here to help you,” a redhead said, turning her blade sideways. “Show some respect.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Dad,” Dean said. He stepped closer to Sam, lips trembling. 

“You’re grounded,” John said, pushing past everyone else. The guards didn’t stop him, but they didn’t lower their swords either. In two quick strides, he had the front of Dean’s shirt fisted in his hand, and he was dragging him closer. “You won’t leave your room until you forget all those stupid ideas about witches and familiars? You hear me?”

Dean swallowed, eyes wide and scared. “Dad, no. You don’t understand. Cas is my—”

“ _ Cas _ is your nothing. You hear me? He’s nothing to you except a sick bastard that saw the opportunity to put a spell on you and took it.”

A hand landed on his shoulder, careful but firm. “Now, now, John. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let the boy go. I don’t think there’s any spellwork going on around here.”

A hysterical laughter rose up John’s throat, choking him. “They got to you, too? And you brought them—” he gestured sharply towards the guards, still watching him with their weapons ready, “—you brought them inside my home. Well, you can get lost along with the lot of them.”

“Watch your tongue,  _ bat _ ,” one of the guards spat. “Or you might lose it.”

The tension was thick between them. It tasted like the few seconds of calm before the storm. This time, John didn’t have the peace of mind to face them with a plan.

“Fine.” Bobby stepped back and raised his arms in surrender. “I’ll find somewhere for them to stay. But this is not over. I’m coming back, and we’re discussing this like adults.”

“You can come back,” John said. “But you can’t tell me how to raise my son. And I won’t let him fall victim to a witch’s spell.” He turned to Dean. “Go to your room. And don’t you dare come back out unless I say so.”

Dean pushed his chest out, narrowing his eyes in his father’s direction.

“And if I say no? I’m not a child anymore, you know.”

“Then I’ll have my soldiers drag you straight to jail. Don’t push my limits, Dean. Now go. To. Your. Room.”

A muscle twitched under Dean’s jaw, and for a moment it looked like he wouldn’t step down. But then he did, turning his face away.

It hurt something deep inside John to see the rage in his son’s eyes directed at him. But Dean didn’t know what witches were capable of, and John had to protect him.

“You’re acting like a madman,” Bobby said and huffed. “Dean spent the last two weeks over there, not you. Maybe you should put some trust in what he says.”

“Dean doesn’t know what he’s saying,” John said. A weird sense of calm had descended over him. With his family close, everything was under control again. The first light of dawn was beginning to filter through the curtains of his office. He’d have to close them soon.

“You keep on saying that, but it was because of him we got so many of Michael’s soldiers to help us.”

“We don’t need them.”

Bobby tilted his head to the side, snorting. “Right, because it’s not like we have open fronts on all sides. What even happened with Samuel? Did you kill him?”

John kept his gaze on the papers scattered over his desk. “Hess has him.”

“Hess?”

“She’s… she’s one of Sam’s professors. She’s with the Men of Letters. Something like an Alpha or a High Priest.”

Bobby’s brows reached so high up his forehead they almost disappeared into his receding hairline. “You’re working with the Men of Letters?”

“Temporarily,” John admitted. “Sam and that friend of his managed to convince them to help us. But now we’re trying to work out a deal for us to stay here.”

“Well, what does she want?” 

“Our shops,” John said flatly. “Our merchandise, our homes, our money. Everything. And they want us out of here as soon as possible.”

“Shit,” Bobby exhaled roughly.

“You’re telling me. They want everything my father, your father, all of our ancestors built. And they won’t even give us a dime for it.”

“Who even suggested this in the first place? Sam?” Bobby asked.

John shook his head. “From my understanding, Mick told them that killing us would only lead to the town’s economic destruction, and she decided to solve that problem by taking our business away from us.” He couldn’t stop his snicker. “But at least she spared our lives.”

“And Samuel? Where is he now?”

“She has him. Along with thirty or so of our people that were with him when he attacked us. He’s still alive as far as I know.” 

Bobby leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his forehead. He cursed under his breath. John knew exactly how he felt.

“And what do we do now?” 

John pursed his lips in thought. “She won’t negotiate with us. We won’t accept any help from the witches. Honestly, I don’t know if there’s anything that we can do except accept her terms and give up our whole lives.”

“Balls.”

Sam could practically feel his brother’s sour mood radiating out of the door, like a dark cloud hanging from the ceiling. Adam was standing guard outside the room, his gaze unwavering as he stared into the distance. He didn’t show any kind of reaction as Sam approached, and he didn’t say anything even as Sam stood right in front of the door.

It was as good a sign as any that he didn’t have orders to stop Sam from going inside.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Sam poked his head through the door, only to be met by his brother’s glare.

Dean was on his bed, a pillow under his chest, another in his arms. “What does it look like?” 

Sam slid inside the room and closed the door behind him. “Considering everything you’ve been through, you look good.”

Dean pushed himself up and rolled over to sit on the edge of his bed. He patted the shop next to him, and Sam didn’t hesitate to join him.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean said. His face softened. 

“Do tell.”

Dean hesitated. “Are you going to yell at me for Cas? Because I’m seriously not in the mood for it.”

“Dean, I’d never do that,” Sam said. “If anything, I’m happy for you, for finding a… a witch? I’m sorry, I’m not sure what being someone’s familiar means for you.”

“It’s not just that I’m his familiar. I mean we have this awesome magic bond, but it’s more than that. Sammy, Cas is… He’s perfect. And he likes me, too, and it’s not because of my charming powers or anything, it’s because of me.” Dean’s face lit up like a child presented with the biggest selection of candy. “I wish you were there to meet him. I know Dad doesn’t like it, but I… Sammy, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Faced with Dean’s excitement, it was hard for Sam not to feel lighter too. “Wow. Dean, I… I’m happy for you. Of course I am. As for Dad, he’ll come around to it eventually. He’s just under a lot of pressure these days. Things have been hard while you were gone.”

Something dark flickers across Dean’s expression. “Yeah, Bobby said something. How are you? Were you hurt?”

“Ah, I’m mostly fine. Just a few bruises and grazes. Thanks to Eileen, nothing worse happened.”

Dean’s eyes bulged so much they almost fell out of their sockets. “Eileen? What happened?”

Sam flopped back, sinking into the soft mattress. “Do you want the long version of the story or the short one?”

“The long one obviously.”

“Right.” Sam chuckled, the sound awkward and hollow. “Well, get comfortable then.”

He started his story with everything that had happened after Dean was arrested. How they returned back home, how Samuel pushed for a counterattack and John refused. He told him about the attacks on humans becoming more frequent, Eileen telling him about Christian threatening her and how that made him follow their cousin. From then on, everything had happened so quickly that it was a blur in his mind, but Sam tried his best to describe everything to his brother, who looked more bewildered with every passing second. 

“Holy shit,” Dean said after Sam was done. “I can’t believe all that happened while I was with Cas? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now,” Sam said, grimacing. “We pulled through, and Dad will figure something out to stop Professor Hess from kicking us out of our house.” 

There was a beat of silence between them. Dean, lying on his back next to Sam, elbowed him in the side. “What are you not telling me.”

“Nothing,” Sam said. He turned his face towards his brother, his mouth dry. “I’m just really happy you’re back. I missed you.”

“Come on, Sammy, don’t get all mushy on me,” Dean joked, though his lopsided grin didn’t reach his eyes. After a moment, he sobered up. “I missed you, too. I wish I was here to help you guys.”

“You’re here now,” Sam said, and felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s going to be okay.” It had to be. He couldn’t believe that all of them had been through so much just to lose now.

“So how’s Eileen?”

“Good, I think. I haven’t seen much of her since she saved me. It’s been busy around here, and Professor Hess tries her hardest to isolate us from any humans. She doesn’t want us feeding on them, and I get it, but what are we supposed to feed on? It’s not like we can survive without blood. I don’t see what the big deal is, we can make it painless for the donors.”

“Or make them forget all about it,” Dean added absently. He hummed, placing a hand behind his head and frowned at the ceiling. “There is another way.”

“What do you mean?”

“The witches,” Dean said. “They have this plant. It’s called a Blood Marigold, and the juice of its fruit is… Sammy, you wouldn’t believe it, but it’s like blood. Actual human blood. It doesn’t taste like it, but it gives you the same feeling of fullness, the same energy rush running through your veins.”

Sam took a moment while he tried to wrap his mind around that concept. “The witches have that?”

“Yeah. Cas works at a greenhouse that’s full of them. I’m sure they have enough to keep us all fed.”

“But why would they give it to us?”

“That’s a good point,” Dean said. “What do we have to give them in exchange?”

Sam jerked his shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “Silk and velvet. Oh, wait. Not anymore.”

“No,” Dean said, still addressing the ceiling. “But we do have… us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah.” Dean turned onto his side, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Think about it. The witches want vampires for familiars, we need allies to have some leverage against the Men of Letters, it works perfectly.”

“Dean, I don’t think it’s as easy as you think,” Sam said, hesitantly. 

“No, but listen to me. They have some kind of meetings every year, and shifters attend them voluntarily, so why not us too? I’m happy with Cas, maybe there’ll be more of us that can find a witch they match with. And if we have Michael’s full support, we have a bigger military power than Professor Hess. She can’t steal everything from us and kick us out anymore, because we can threaten to go to war.”

“The point is not to go to war,” Sam said.

Dean tilted his head to the side, giving him a smirk. “But she doesn’t know that, does she?”

Castiel had to wait for close to six hours, watching the Winchester Household from afar. He wasn’t sure which one was Dean’s room until nightfall, when the curtains were drawn back, and Dean appeared at the window.

Castiel’s heart skipped a beat.

He looked good. Thank God he’d arrived home without any trouble. Castiel didn’t know where his grandfather was, but he wasn’t anywhere nearby if Dean and his family were going on with life relatively normally. 

Giddy with excitement, Castiel concealed himself with another illusion. This should be the last one. Silently, he flew on his broom all the way to Dean’s window, hovering there for a second. Dean had his back to him, and he was crouched near a pile of sheets on the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel released his spell and knocked on the window.

Dean’s head snapped around. His eyes grew wide, his mouth fell open, and a myriad of emotions crossed over his face before he settled on a wide smile. Castiel smiled back and pointed at the window, asking to be let in.

“What are you doing here?” Dean whispered as Castiel landed inside his bedroom. He quickly checked outside. “Did anyone see you?”

“No, I don’t think they did,” Castiel said. With a quick move of his wrist, he sent the broom to stand in a corner out of the way. He turned just in time to get an armful of Winchester. He staggered back, but managed to keep his balance and wrap his arms around Dean, returning the hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Dean mumbled against Castiel’s neck. His lips tickled the sensitive skin there. 

“What happened? Is your family okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Grandad’s in jail for now, and everyone is safe. We do have some trouble with the Men of Letters, but I think we’ll find a solution soon.” Dean drew back, and for the first time, Castiel noticed he was pale. “Cas, you shouldn’t have come.”

“I know you said you wanted me to stay away, but Dean I had to be here for you,” Castiel said, only for Dean to shake his head. 

“No, Cas. I told Dad about us. I thought he read my letter, but… He’s mad. Really mad. He won’t let me out of my room. He thinks you put a spell on me or something.”

Castiel’s stomach dropped to the floor, leaving a hollowness inside him. “Dean, I’d never—”

“Yeah, I know that. But he doesn’t.” He grabbed Castiel’s hand and pulled him towards the pile of sheets. “I was just trying to escape. I wanted to come find you.”

Castiel looked down at the makeshift rope Dean had been working on. His ribs tightened around his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He’d known John wouldn’t like the news of their relationship, but he hadn’t thought that he’d go to such extreme measures as to imprison his own son.

“It’s fine,” he said, forcing himself to sound cheerful for Dean’s sake. “I’m here now, and we’ll figure something out together.”

“Cas, you have to leave,” Dean hissed, his eyes darting at the closed door. His voice was still lowered. Was someone outside the door? “What if Dad finds you here?”

“We’ll deal with it then,” Castiel said. He dropped Dean’s hand to cup his face instead. “Dean, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

A pleased grin split his face in two as Dean’s eyes softened. They fell to Castiel’s mouth, a warmth travelling through their bond to envelop Castiel like a blanket. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Dean said, low enough that Castiel only caught it because they were a breath apart. Then he pulled Castiel forward, into a long, slow kiss.

A familiar tingling flooding his body, Castiel let himself melt against Dean. Their lips fit together with practiced ease, hands pulling and caressing, fingers finding the perfect spot to touch and press and hold. It was dizzying. Intoxicating.

Castiel was like a thirsty man discovering water in the middle of the desert. 

He couldn’t remember moving, but his legs hit the edge of the bed and his knees gave way. His back hit the mattress, and Dean crawled over him, leaning down to capture his lips again. It was so easy to let go. To forget about everything else but them and the way their bodies moved together. 

With a low gasp, Castiel tilted his head back, letting Dean trail a path down his throat, sucking and nibbling on his way. His pulse picked up, anticipation coiling low in his stomach, both dreading and looking forward to what was going to happen next. 

At the first sting of pain, Castiel took a sharp breath, closing his eyes. Soon numbness took over, his body loosening, muscles relaxing. His hold on Dean was barely there, but there was a serene clarity filtering through the bond. He was safe. He was okay. Dean was going to take care of him. 

The first wave of pleasure rippled through him, slow but building. Castiel couldn’t know if it was Dean’s or if it was his. It didn’t matter. It didn’t feel like there was anything separating them anymore anyway. He was floating, gently soaring with only Dean’s hands on him to anchor him in the moment.

The door slammed open.

“What’s going on here?” 

The sound of John’s voice was so far away. Castiel blinked up, but Dean was gone. Where had he gone? Still feeling light-headed, Castiel tried to find purchase on the bed to push himself up, only to slip and bounce against the mattress. A giggle escaped his throat. 

Where was Dean?

“No, Dad, wait.”

“Stay away, Dean. Adam, get him.”

So many voices. One of them belonged to Dean. He could recognize Dean’s voice everywhere.

“John, look at him. You can’t do this.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want.”

A pang of terror filtered through the hazy cotton surrounding him, and Castiel frowned. Was that Dean? Why was he scared? 

There were hands on him. They were trying to keep him away from Dean. No, Castiel wouldn’t let them. He had to get to Dean. He could feel him. He was somewhere near, and he was scared. Castiel had to find him, but the hands wouldn’t let him. 

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“Saving you from yourself.”

There was a sharp pain on the back of his head. Then darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

In all his years being a Man of Letters, Mick had never seen their prison being used, but now it was full. Vampires were stacked in the five tiny cells making up the deepest part of their cellar, and their men checked in on them regularly to make sure there was no chance of them escaping.

Professor Hess seemed mighty pleased with herself. She strode up and down the narrow hallway, ignoring the hissing noises the vampires made at her. She didn’t even bother to shrug off their grabby hands. It was clear that in her mind, they’d already won.

“I have to say, Mr. Davies, that I didn’t think you had it in you. I always thought you’d stay a lowly secretary, but… you proved me wrong. I’m impressed.”

Mick bowed his head, hoping to appear as submissive as possible. “I only pointed out the obvious. A lot of jobs are dependent on the Winchesters and their fabric trade.”

“But not for long. Imagine what we can do with the profit once all those stores are in our hands. A bigger school, more equipment, more men in our ranks. We’ll be unstoppable.”

“John Winchester will never agree to give everything over.”

She waved him away. “He doesn’t have a choice. What army is he going to fight us with? He knows we have the toxin. He won’t dare move against us.” She came to a stop in front of the last cell. “And we have thirty of their vampires.”

“Traitors,” Mick pointed out. 

“It doesn’t matter, even if John Winchester wants them dead. We’ll keep them here. They’ll prove to be useful eventually.” She tilted her head to the side, as if provoking the one lone man occupying the last cell.

Samuel Campbell growled in answer, raising goosebumps down Mick’s arms.

The first thing Castiel knew was that he was cold. Cold and sore. He blinked his eyes open, fighting against the strong pull of unconsciousness. Reality came back to him in bits and pieces.

It was dark. He was lying on something hard and uncomfortable, and every breath he took in filled his lungs with damp, heavy air. Not in Dean’s room anymore, then. His head was throbbing, and he felt like he could still hear the voices of Dean and his father arguing in the distance.

He rubbed his eyes, shook his head and turned on his back. At least he wasn’t dizzy anymore. He was in a small room, the window’s shutters closed and the curtains drawn. The room was empty save for a chair and the blanket he was lying on. 

And the voices weren’t in his head. He could really hear arguments somewhere in the house. He could also feel Dean, upset and angry, and coming nearer with every passing second. He scrambled up, walking to the door.

“Get out of my way, Adam.”

“You know I can’t do that, Dean. Orders are orders.”

Breathless, Castiel pressed himself against the door. It was locked, but Dean was standing right behind it. “Dean!”

“Cas!” There was a shuffling noise, and a low curse, like whoever that Adam was had tried to stop Dean from getting closer. The knob rattled, but the door didn’t budge. “Cas, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

Dean laughed, a hint of relief laced through his voice when he said, “So polite.” A beat. Then, “I’m so sorry. Dad shouldn’t have done this. He’s an asshole and—Oh, don’t look at me like that, Adam! If you don’t like what I’m saying get out of here.”

“I’m on duty,” Adam complained.

“Go be on duty somewhere else, then,” Dean snarled. “I’m talking to my boyfriend here.”

“I can go wait at the corner, but I can’t let you out of my sight,” Adam said, but Castiel could hear him walking away. 

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” Dean said softly. His words were followed by a soft thump that vibrated through the door, as if Dean had dropped his head against it. “I’m so fucking sorry, Cas. This is all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Cas said, touching his forehead against the door too. Maybe it was his imagination, maybe it was their bond, but he could feel Dean’s body heat. It was a big comfort, being even this close. “It’s not your fault.”

“Ι promise I’ll get you out of here.”

“I know,” Castiel said. “I know you will. I trust you.”

“Cas, I… I love you. And I won’t let anything happen to you, so hang in there a while longer.” A flutter of nervousness surged through Castiel. He closed his eyes, biting down his smile, while Dean went on. “I’ll get you out of there even if I have to make that potion you used when you helped me.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, going a little weak at the knees. “I love you, too. And I’ll wait for your father to see reason. Besides, there’s no reason for you to make that potion. I can always blast the door with a spell.” And he was tempted to do it. The only thing stopping him was the fact that John would never trust him again.

“I’d like to see that,” Dean said; Castiel could easily imagine the silly grin that accompanied his tone of voice. “You should have blasted that cell door when you rescued me. It would have been badass.”

“I’m sure it would have been entertaining, but it also would have led them straight back to me.”

“Really? How?”

“There’s a spell that can trace the magic back to its user,” Castiel said. “They would have known it was me the moment they realized you were gone.”

There was silence, then, “So, if you’ve cast a spell on someone—say for example, me—it would leave a magical signature?”

“Yes, essentially.” Castiel frowned. Was this really the moment to get technical about magic?

“So if you haven’t used a spell on me, what would the spell show?”

Castiel opened and closed his mouth. “Nothing.” He blinked, trying to find a connection between everything Dean was asking him.

“Cas, don’t you see?” Dean said, a new surge of excitement passing between them. “That’s our solution! This spell can prove to Dad that I’m not under your spell. That you didn’t force me to become your familiar and what we have is real.”

Castiel brought a hand over his mouth, amazed. How had he not thought about this? But how would they do it? John would never allow him to do the spell himself. Except… “Dean, you have to talk to Anna.” Castiel pressed himself closer to the door, the harsh surface of the door grazing his skin. “She can perform the spell. If you have anyone here that knows basic ingredient spell-casting, she can show them how to do it.”

“Bobby has all the guards Michael sent staying at a house near here. I’ll go talk to her right away.”

“Dean,” Castiel called before Dean could rush away. There wasn’t an answer, but he knew Dean was waiting on the other side. Castiel took a deep breath. “I’ll wait for you.”

There was a playful knock against the door. “I won’t keep you waiting for long.”

And with that he was off, his footsteps disappearing down the corridor. 

Castiel turned around, leaning against the door and sliding down to sit on his heels. He only hoped Anna was willing to help them.

Very few of the witch guards looked up when Dean passed by them in search of the redheaded witch Cas had sent him to find. Some of them were gathered in a corner, playing a game with dice Dean vaguely recognized, a couple others were coming down the stairs, and a few others were gathered in a room at the back, which Dean suspected was the kitchen.

But where was Anna?

Deciding that clearing the first floor and then moving up was his best choice, he started poking his head into random rooms. At the last room, a library turned makeshift bedroom with mattresses on the floor and the desks pushed to the walls, he caught sight of two heads bowed close together. Both redheads.

“Anna,” he called, storming into the room.

The two girls broke apart, alarmed. Dean caught sight of at least one hand moving for the shortsword left on the floor in front of them. 

“Oh, it’s you,” the cat shifter said. The one who’d caught him that night he was leaving Castiel’s room. “Did your dad finally decide you’re an adult and let you go?”

“Charlie,” Anna chastised her, though a hint of a smirk played at her lips. Her face was a mask of neutrality when she turned towards Dean. “How can I help you?”

“Dad has more important things to take care of than disciplining me right now, but I need your help,” Dean said, not missing a beat, and he dropped to sit cross legged across from them. “Cas followed us here, and Dad found him. He has him locked in a room now because he thinks he put some kind of spell on me.”

“Cassie’s here?” Anna narrowed her eyes at him. “He was supposed to stay home with His Majesty, the High Priest.”

Dean blinked. Was she accusing him of something? “Hey, I swear, I was as surprised as you are when he showed up. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you have to help me prove that there’s not even a hint of Cas’ magic on me.”

“You want me to… to what? Check for Cassie’s magic signature on you?”

“Yes, exactly,” Dean said. “Or if you can teach Bobby the spell, that would be awesome.”

“Ι…” Anna trailed off, turning to Charlie for help. “What should we do?”

Charlie gazed back at her with wide eyes. “Help him, obviously,” she said to Dean’s huge relief. “We have to help Castiel.” And with that, she sprang up. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s find that old man and teach him some magic.”

Problems.

Every step he took, all he found was problems and hurdles. And the biggest of them all was currently locked in an old storage room. 

Shit. 

He couldn’t keep that boy in there for long. Michael already had soldiers in the city. Soldiers who were waiting for a single word to attack him. And he still hadn’t found a middle ground with that cursed Men of Letters Elder.

He sighed, leaning against the window.

“Not hungry?” Bobby came in without knocking, a heavy book under his armpit. He raised an eyebrow in the dining table’s direction, already set and waiting.

John mumbled a non-committal answer. Neither of his sons had joined him for dinner. Without any company, any appetite he might have had disappeared into thin air. He swore he was growing older by the second these days. 

“You’re lucky it’s not Ellen cooking,” Bobby said conversationally, wandering around the table and inspecting the food that was growing cold. “She’d have your head on one of those plates rather than waste all this food.”

“Good thing she’s not my cook then,” John growled. He turned to face Bobby. “Please tell me you have good news.”

Bobby grimaced. “I have news. It’s up to you whether it’s good or not.”

“Ugh, alright. Tell me what it is. I’m ready.”

Bobby placed the book on the table, raising a cloud of dust. “I found a way to prove to you that Dean is not under a spell.”

“That’s your solution?” John said, then snorted. “You’re too soft with him. He’ll thank me one day for keeping him away from that witch.”

“Or maybe he’ll never speak to you again,” Bobby shot back. He raised an eyebrow. “Now will you listen to me, or will you let your stubbornness destroy your relationship with your son?”

Not willing to speak around his dry throat, John nodded.

“Good,” Bobby said. He opened the book and found the page he was looking for. With his finger, he traced the title. “One of the witches pointed out to me that there’s a spell we can use to determine whether anything or _anyone_ is under a spell, and if so whose spell it is.”

Heat started spreading through John’s body, his blood dangerously close to boiling. Again. It did that a lot these days. “And you trust what one of them told you?”

“I trust my books and what _I_ know about magic from the last fifty years I’ve spent studying it. And the spell she told me about is right here.” He turned the book for John to look at and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve had this book longer than I can remember.”

John clenched his jaw. “You’re not going to stop bothering me until I agree to this, are you?”

Bobby shrugged. “Save us all the trouble and time. Michael doesn’t know Castiel is here. Yet. But I imagine it won’t take long for him to figure it out. I’d rather we have him on our side than against us.”

John growled in frustration and pushed the book away from him. “Why are you all ganging up on me?”

“We’re not ganging up on you,” Bobby said. “You first suggested the treaty with the witches. You reached out to Michael, you negotiated, you were ready to sign that damned piece of paper before Samuel got in the way.”

“That was before they brainwashed my son!”

“And that’s why I’m here to prove to you that they didn’t. You know, John, this whole ‘they are our sworn enemies’ story is old, and I’m getting tired. And in case you forgot, we weren’t the only ones to lose people to that war, and the witches certainly weren’t the only ones to use dark magic to gain an advantage,” Bobby said. “You were ready to put all that behind for the greater good, to protect our people and our families.” He opened his arms out, trying to calm John down. “All I’m asking is for you to have an open mind.”

John took a noisy breath through the nose. It was true that he couldn’t keep doing nothing while his enemies piled up on top of each other. He’d called a Council meeting asking for the support of the rest of the big families, but when all of them had at least one son who had been part of Samuel’s sect, it was hard to know who to trust. And he couldn’t afford to keep the handful of soldiers on his side babysitting a witch.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s give it a try.”

Dean knew there was no spell on him, and yet he dreaded the moment Adam opened the door to lead Castiel into John’s office. Nausea made his stomach roll even as his heart soared. It wasn’t fair that they had to go through this. 

Castiel gazed up at him from under his lashes, a hesitant smile blooming across his face, and something inside Dean’s chest squeezed around his heart. Right then and there he decided this was the last thing he’d tolerate from both John and Michael. He wouldn’t let anything else get between them.

“Are we ready to begin?” Sam asked, leaning against the wall near the window. 

Bobby took stock of the ingredients he had spread on the desk, mouthing their names as he went along. “We’ve got everything I think.” He checked with Anna, who silently nodded her head.

She and Charlie had come to stand next to Castiel, their posture rigid. They weren’t just his friends, Dean reminded himself. Castiel was also the heir to their High Priest. 

“Alright then,” Bobby said and gestured Castiel forward to stand with Dean. “Come now, this isn’t going to hurt one bit.”

“The tracing spell has two components,” Anna explained, addressing mostly Dean. While she talked, Bobby started work with the mortar and pestle. “The ingredients are ground to a fine powder—that’s the first component. The second one is the incantation itself. If there’s any trace of a spell on you, it will be illuminated, as will the caster, like he was covered in dust himself.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. Knowing how it was going to happen was helping calm him down, but just barely. Meeting Castiel’s eyes, on the other hand, did wonders. Just looking into those big, blue eyes made all the buzzing and murmurs around them fade away. Dean could breathe again.

“And we can trust this?” John questioned, glowering around the room at everyone.

“I’m the one performing the spell,” Bobby said, tapping the excess powder off the pestle and putting it to the side. 

Castiel and Dean stood side by side in front of him, while Bobby gathered the powder inside the crease of a folded paper. He raised it in front of his face, meeting Dean’s eye for a brief second. Then he blew the powder, sending a cloud of it to cover Dean from head to toe. 

“Appare Vestigium,” Bobby commanded, and Dean felt his whole body tingling. 

The entire room seemed to be holding its breath along with him. Which was stupid. He knew he wasn’t under any kind of spell. And yet…

Too nervous to look down, he kept his gaze straight ahead. “Well?”

A beat of silence. Then Charlie said, “Nothing. There’s nothing.”

“Just a whole lot of dust,” Bobby added, curling his nose. “You’ll have to take a bath.”

Dean exhaled roughly, feeling Castiel do the same next to him. They’d done it. This was the proof they needed. There was nothing John could say anymore to keep them apart. He felt the same relief echo from Castiel through their bond.

A blinding light appeared out of nowhere, filling the room and making Dean close his eyes. When he managed to crack an eyelid open, he gasped. He was the one glowing. The light was engulfing him like a river, spiralling around him, gently flowing from his head to his toes and back up, then extending out to continue its path around Castiel. It was like a rope tying them together.

“What’s this?” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. The glow was casting Castiel in golden hues and soft shadows, and he was breathtaking.

From the side of his eye, he saw Anna step closer, a hand over her mouth. “That’s your… That’s your bond. But I’ve never seen one so strong.”

Charlie whistled, impressed as she, too, came closer to inspect the glowing stream of magic. “It’s the only natural bond we’ve ever seen.”

“I… I didn’t know it could look like this,” Castiel said, and he sounded as breathless as Dean felt. 

With all the self control he could muster, Dean turned to his father. “I hope that’s enough proof for you,” he said, keeping his voice even and devoid of any emotion. “I’m not under any kind of spell. I chose this, I chose Cas.” He reached out, taking Castiel’s hand in his own so they faced his father united. The light became impossibly brighter. “I love him, and you either accept it, or I leave tomorrow and you never see me again. I’m sorry but those are your choices.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt Dean,” Castiel said firmly. He gave Dean’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “I know that the history between us makes this a little hard to stomach, but if you give me a chance, I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust.” He turned to smile at Dean, his face softening so much that Dean melted a little inside. Under the light of the tracing spell, his eyes sparkled like a starlit sky. “And of your son.”

Someone cooed—Dean thought it was Charlie, but Sammy was also a suspect. John was still standing with his arms crossed. His nostrils flared, his chest rose and fell. 

“That ain’t much of a choice is it?” He unfolded his arms, pining Castiel with a glare. “I’ll still keep an eye on you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir,” Castiel said, straightening up. 

And Dean couldn’t wait any longer. He yanked Castiel closer, wrapping him in a tight hug. He buried his nose in his throat and took a deep breath. He’d never get enough of this, he thought, loving how easily Castiel fit in his arms. They broke apart only for Dean to capture Castiel’s lips in a fiery kiss that made his whole body tingle. 

This time it was definitely Sammy who wolf-whistled, though Charlie’s applause was almost as loud. Even Bobby cursed under his breath, which considering it was Bobby, was as good as cheering. But all of that was white noise to Dean, who only had ears for the giggle rising up Castiel’s throat and vibrating through his chest. He’d cherish this moment forever.

Castiel was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. That was easier than he’d expected. Finally something had gone right for them, even if he and John still had a long way to go before they were comfortable around each other. 

Speaking of which...

“We’ll have to send a letter to his brother.” John was rubbing a hand over his brow, while he and Bobby walked out of the room.

“Good thing I already did,” Bobby said. He looked very pleased with himself. “I expect he’ll be here before the week ends.”

“You what?”

“You’ll thank me one day,” Bobby said. 

John shook his head. “What would I do without you, old man?”

“The only old one here is your ass,” Bobby grumbled, elbowing him in the side.

Michael was on his way? Distracted, Castiel wandered away from Dean, who didn’t seem to mind. As they broke apart, the light surrounding them faded, until it disappeared completely. He knew the bond was still there, but he still felt a tug of regret inside him. It was comforting to actually see it, real and tangible.

But he had to catch up to Bobby and ask about his brother and— 

“Castiel.” Anna’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to look at her. For a moment she seemed to struggle for words, but then Charlie came to stand at her side, and that seemed to be enough to help her make a decision. “You really love him.”

Castiel felt his muscles stiffen. This wasn’t the conversation he was expecting to have. “I— Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Anna nodded. Charlie had a hand on her shoulder, and though she wasn’t speaking, Castiel was sure that everything they needed the other to know was communicated through their bond.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “We haven’t been good friends to you lately.”

Castiel huffed. “I can say the same thing for myself.”

“How about we agree that we were all idiots?” Charlie suggested. “Honestly, I’m kind of tired of the tension, and I’m ready to go back to how things were before. Plus, Dean seems like a fun guy.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “You always liked him.”

Charlie grinned. “I’m a good judge of character. And honestly, Inias is a bit of a drama queen, so...”

“I think he has a right to be this time,” Castiel said with a grimace. “I’ll have to apologize to him again.”

“He’ll be coming here,” Anna told him. “Dorothy took him back into the Royal Guard, so he’ll be accompanying her and your brother. You can try talking to him then. Just… just be honest with him. He of all people will be able to understand how you feel.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, choking around the lump in his throat. “Both of you. I missed you.”

“Oh, we missed you, too, Cassie.” Charlie opened her arms, motioning both him and Anna closer. “I think it’s group hug time. Come on. Come on, don’t be shy.”

“We’re supposed to be working,” Anna complained, but she easily stepped closer, a hand around Charlie’s shoulders and the other around Castiel’s waist. She patted them both, then stepped back. “Alright. That’s enough.”

“You secretly love them,” Charlie teased, turning a conspiratorial smile towards Castiel. It felt like they’d never fought. Like he’d never betrayed them. 

Hopefully one day he could talk with Inias, Kevin and Hannah and think the same.

Sam saw John and Bobby leaving, and he quickly untangled himself from his brother’s arms. He knew exactly how important this moment was for Dean, just like he’d known how nervous Dean had been until the spell took effect, but this wasn’t the time for celebration. Not yet.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said over his shoulder at Dean’s confused look. “I just gotta talk to Dad about something.”

“—a new shipment today, but it’s been held up at the city gates,” Bobby was saying as Sam caught up to them. “Ellen’s still down there, I think.”

“Dad, Bobby! Wait a minute.” Sam was breathless, but neither of the men slowed down. 

“Don’t have the time right now, Sam,” John said, his mouth a tight line. Sam imagined he still didn’t like the idea of Dean dating a witch, let alone being his familiar. That still didn’t give him the right to give his other son the cold shoulder.

“But I want to talk to you about—”

“Can’t it wait ‘til later?” Bobby cut him off. “The Council’s waiting for us. We’re supposed to be coming up with a solution for our Men of Letters problem.”

“But that’s exactly what I—” Sam tried to say again, only for one of their soldiers to interrupt him by rushing through the door. 

“Mr. Winchester, I’m so sorry,” he was saying, frantic and panicked. “I tried to stop him, but he—”

“He?” was all John had time to say before the door burst open again, only this time it was a whole group of people marching inside. And Michael Novak was leading them. 

“Where is my brother, Winchester?”

John stumbled to a stop, his mouth falling open. Behind him, Bobby and Sam were equally dumbstruck. 

“Well,” Michael said, glaring between them. “Where is he?” 

At least a dozen guards came to stand around him. None of them were part of the group that had accompanied Dean and Bobby back, and all of them were poised to draw their weapons. Sam swallowed thickly. They were now outnumbered inside their own house.

“Um… we sent a letter?” Bobby said, unsurely. He stepped forward, his stance anything but confident. “Although I didn’t know about Castiel back then, so I didn’t say anything....” he trailed off, lowering his face under Michael’s intense gaze.

“I think it’s obvious that I didn’t receive any letter,” Michael hissed. 

“We left as soon as we realized Castiel was missing,” Dorothy added, bringing a hand over the hilt of her sword. It could have been a casual gesture, except every single one of the guards mimicked her. “We assume he’s been here all along.”

“About that,” John said, a hundred emotion crossing over his face at the same time. Sam wondered how much he was willing to say. “We only realized it yesterday. We were just about to contact you, but you obviously beat us to it.”

Nothing about keeping Castiel a prisoner or the spell Bobby had performed, just as Sam had predicted. He wasn’t sure they could keep it a secret for long, though. Even if Anna and Charlie were persuaded not to speak, the news might have spread among the other witches by now. 

“Castiel is with Dean,” Sam jumped in to say. His knees wobbled a little when the attention of both the High Priest and his fae familiar turned on him, but he couldn’t back down now. This was actually perfect for his plan. He raised his eyebrows in the direction of their soldier, still waiting at the side for John’s orders—or reprimand. “He’ll be right down. Right?”

The soldier straightened up. “Yes, of course, my Lord. I’ll go and fetch him.”

Michael watched his retreating back. “So if your letter wasn’t about my brother, what was it about?”

“News about the situation here,” Bobby said, clutching the book against his chest. It was the first time Sam had seen him fumbling for words. “Um, it seems we’ll need your help to get out of some, some trouble we’ve found ourselves in.”

“More trouble?” Michael asked. “But I see you are all safe and sound, which is more than I expected while riding down here.”

“Michael!” Castiel neatly stepped past all of them to go to his brother’s side, Dean right behind him. It was too soon for the soldier to have gotten word to him, so he’d probably heard the commotion and came to investigate. “What are you doing here?”

“The question is what are _you_ doing here?” Michael shot back. “I told you time and time again that it was too dangerous for you to come here, the vampires were fighting amongst themselves and it’d be the easiest thing for any of them to hurt you, and what do you do? You sneak out and come here anyway.”

“To be fair, there’s no war here,” Castiel said, wincing. “Dean said Samuel’s already in jail, isn’t he?” He turned to Dean who nodded in confirmation. 

“Samuel’s in jail, right.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on around here?”

“Yes, of course,” John said. “Um, we just have to cancel a Council meeting first, and then we can have a nice chat in my office. Is Ellen around to find someplace for all our… guests to stay?”

Bobby shook his head, mumbling how he wasn’t sure, and Sam’d had enough. There was too much he said she said, and he did that but that didn’t happen, and this was the time to act, not talk. “Actually, if anyone’s finally willing to listen to me,” he said, making every single set of eyes in the room turn to him, “the situation is fairly simple. We asked the Men of Letters for their help in defeating Grand—Samuel, but now they are demanding we give them all of our assets, including our stores, stock and houses, in exchange for not getting killed. And I have a plan to stop them. Actually, it was Dean’s plan,” he added, meeting his brother’s gaze just in time to catch his smile. “So, how about I explain that to you?”

The fae crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. “Finally, someone who talks straight. Mr. Winchester, you don’t mind if your son takes the lead on this one, do you?”

If John had any objections, they died at the sight of her expression. 

“Good,” she said, and Michael added, “Sam, wasn’t it? Please show us where your father’s office is.”


	12. Chapter 12

“This is… complicated,” Michael said, looking up from the notes he’d taken to keep up with what the younger Winchester had suggested. “ _ We _ of course are willing to sign these terms, but your father…” He didn’t even turn in John’s direction, but he heard the low growl.

“The whole point is that some of us will  _ willingly _ attend the Familiar Meetings you organize annually,” Sam said. “No one is forced to do it, or even forced to choose a witch if they do participate. As long as a neutral ground is chosen, I think no one will have a problem.”

“How many vampires do you know that would agree to this?” John asked, wearing his simmering anger like armor. He didn’t like not being in control of the negotiations and it showed in every tense line of his body. Michael had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“I already agreed,” Dean jumped in from the corner of the room where he and Castiel were standing close together. Michael would have preferred for his brother to be sitting closer to him, but this was a delicate situation, and he had to make some compromises. 

“And he can be there to look after any vampire that wants to give it a try,” Castiel agreed. “I’m sure someone will be curious.”

Dorothy shook her head, her jaw clenched. A hint of apprehension trickled through their bond, keeping Michael alert. “Even if we do agree on giving Blood Marigold seeds to you, who will look after them? They are delicate plants, and a very complicated procedure is needed to produce the juice.”

“I was thinking…” Castiel swallowed, meeting Michael’s gaze; Michael shifted uncomfortably at the hint of hesitation on Castiel’s face. “I mean Dean and I haven’t talked about this yet, but I could—I could stay here and take care of that?”

Dean’s mouth fell slightly open, but there was no hiding the delight shining in his eyes. “You’d stay here?” he asked, a goofy grin splitting his face. 

“If you’ll have me,” Castiel answered, a shy smile playing on his own lips.

Michael felt his chest tighten. “You want to stay here? With the vampires?” He didn’t mean for his words to come out as flat as they did. His grip around his pen tightened, until it snapped in two. “Alone?”

Castiel opened and closed his mouth. Michael swore to God, if he was about to say that he’d have  _ Dean _ like it was enough of an assurance, he was going to ship Castiel straight back to the castle. Along with his boyfriend if he had to. 

“That’s the easiest problem to solve.” Dorothy laid a hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “We’ll form his own personal Guard to send along. I’m sure we can also find witches who’d want to move with Castiel to further their research on the Blood Marigolds. Having vampires to monitor is a perfect opportunity for them. If Mr. Winchester agrees.”

John pressed two fingers against his eyelids. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He didn’t address the question to anyone in particular. 

It was Bobby who answered. “It’s a good plan, John. You should accept.”

Dropping his head to his chest, John took a deep breath. “Alright fine. Get those papers ready and I’ll sign whatever it is that I need to sign.”

“We’ll get a temporary agreement ready to sign tonight. We’ll prepare something more formal once we’ve all calmed down a bit,” Michael decided, shuffling his papers. Usually, it was Zach and Raphael that dealt with paperwork. He hoped Bobby’s help would be enough to come up with something suitable for now. 

“So…” Sam trailed off. “We go to the Men of Letters tomorrow?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at John, who nodded. Finally, something they agreed on. “Tomorrow.”

“Did you mean it?” Dean asked between butterfly kisses pressed along Castiel’s jaw. “Will you really move here with me?”

“It’s the best option we have,” Castiel murmured breathlessly, pulling him back up to kiss his already red and swollen lips. God, what that sight did to him. “I can convince Michael to let me stay here, but John…”

Dean’s hand sneaked under his shirt to find warm skin and press his palm there. Castiel hissed, flinching away. “You’re cold.”

“So warm me up.”

“I’m trying.”

Dean’s chuckle vibrated through his chest to Castiel’s palm pressed over it. “You’re not trying hard enough, then.” He dove down again, rolling them over until Castiel was on top, and the sheets were rumpled at their feet. “But seriously, don’t worry about Dad.”

“Right,” Castiel huffed, stretching his neck to give Dean more room to suck marks on the sensitive skin there. “Why should I worry that your dad hates me?”

Dean paused, rolling over to lie at Castiel’s side, head propped on his hand. With the other hand, he cupped Castiel’s cheek, tilting his head so they were looking each other in the eye. “He’s just worried. Eventually he’ll see how awesome you are, and he’ll love you. I promise.”

Despite Dean’s reassurances, Castiel’s stomach twisted in a painful knot. He didn’t want to be the reason Dean fought with his father. “I just wish there was a way for that to happen faster.”

Dean’s lips stretched to a wolfish smirk, in complete contrast to the way his eyes fluttered closed coyly. “Well,” he said, gazing at Castiel from under his lashes. “I  _ did _ try to distract you to make time pass without you realizing it, but you stopped me.” He trailed a finger down Castiel’s torso, heat rising to meet in the middle.

“Aren’t you nervous?” Castiel asked, grabbing Dean’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He pulled him closer, close enough to feel every hot puff of Dean’s breath against his skin. “About tomorrow.”

“Of course I am. But no matter what happens, I’ll have you,” he said easily. “Besides, Dad is resourceful. Worst case scenario, we get kicked out of this town with nothing to our names, then we start anew somewhere else.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“What else am I supposed to do? It’s not like there’s anything else we can do. Whatever happens tomorrow, it’s out of our hands now.” He turned onto his back, pulling Castiel’s hand to rest on his chest. “Sammy came up with a solid plan. It’s our best chance now.”

“It was your plan, too,” Castiel said.

“I mean, yeah, but he was the one who convinced everyone. Did you see him? He even got Dad to shut up and listen. Kid’s a natural. He’ll make a good leader one day.”

Castiel’s brows drew close together. “Aren’t you going to become Alpha after your father?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said to the ceiling. He sighed. “First of all, we’d both have to be voted by the Council to become Alpha, but I don’t think I’d want to. I always preferred working at the store, helping Ellen, hearing all about how Grandpa Henry created an empire out of a tiny shop. Trading, talking with the customers, actually visiting new places to find merchandise… that’s what I want to do.”

Castiel felt a lump rising in his throat. He grasped Dean’s hand harder. “Whatever it is you want to do, we’ll do it together.”

Dean’s eyes flickered back to him, warm and soft and so loving Castiel could swear he’d do anything to have Dean look at him like that forever. Anything.

“Thanks, Cas. Can we please make out now?”

Castiel almost burst out laughing. He didn't. He climbed on top of Dean, intent on making sure that neither of them would be thinking about anything else but each other for the rest of the night.

It seemed that Professor Hess had unofficially promoted Mick to her personal assistant. Where she had barely paid him attention before, she was always requesting his presence now, whether it was to meetings with fellow Men of Letters or just to follow her around while going about her day at the university. The recent events had somehow proven him worthy to her.

Mick hated it.

He hated every second he had to spend with her, and he hated that she was pushing him to get more involved with ‘his heritage’ as she so often told him. His heritage was protecting people from monsters, which he did when he helped Sam stop his grandfather. Stealing the livelihood of a hundred or so people because they were different wasn’t part of his heritage. He believed with all his heart that Sam had never hurt anyone, and neither had most of the vampires living under John’s rule, and it was unfair that they had to pay for what a few individuals did, or what their ancestors did. 

He hated that Professor Hess had Sam cornered.

So when Sam showed up with enough manpower to capture the whole Men of Letters base of operations, a small part of him was relieved. Not because he was looking forward to a battle they were clearly outnumbered in, but because he knew Professor Hess wouldn’t risk letting things reach that point. Especially now that witches were involved; the Men of Letters toxin simply didn’t work against them, rendering the biggest ace up their sleeve worthless. 

The sides were finally balanced.

Mick watched from the Elder’s side while Mr. Winchester and the High Priest of the witches laid out their offer to the humans—the attacks stop, and they get to live peacefully like they always did. As a bonus, the Men of Letters could keep the rogue vampires as prisoners, like Professore Hess had asked from the beginning. 

To say she wasn’t pleased would be an understatement. Her face remained a carefully crafted mask of calmness, but standing right behind her meant that Mick could see how flushed the back of her neck and her ears were. There was nothing else she would say but—

“No.”

Mick flinched back. Had he heard correct? Judging from the surprise written on every single face in the room, he had to assume that yes, he had indeed heard Professor Hess shoot down the offer.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee. “I can’t accept these terms. We can no longer live with vampires among us. It would be reckless and dangerous for all the people I swore to protect.”

Mick almost snorted. He couldn’t believe she was still playing this game. They didn’t have enough men, their biggest weapon didn’t work on the bulk of their opponents, and they didn’t have any bargaining chip left. The Elder seemed intent on bluffing her way out of it anyway.

“So, you want to declare war?” the High Priest asked, regaining his composure. He was sitting across the table from the Elder, John Winchester to his right, a woman with braided hair and a sharp knife strapped to her waist to his left. Sam was also with them, though he didn’t speak. 

“I’m here to negotiate,” Professor Hess said. “And what you just offered me is not a negotiation.”

“We offered for you to keep our people as prisoners,” John Winchester growled. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No. I want every single vampire out of my city. This is non-negotiable.”

“You want to steal everything we own,” John shot back, hitting his fist on the table. It rattled with the force of the bang. An inkpot tipped over, spilling its contents on the table, a black stain that spread and blossomed. “All you care about is how much money you can make.”

“You understand why we can’t accept those terms,” the High Priest said. He knit his fingers together, glancing at the table before gazing up again. “We don’t want to use force, but it seems like you won’t leave us any choice.”

“I’m just stating facts,” the Elder said, shaking her head like she’d already won. “Do you think anyone will feel safe with monsters as their neighbors?”

She smirked, more satisfied than she had the right to be. But how could she when so many people would lose their lives unless they reached an agreement today? Unless…

Mick swallowed thickly. He knew her. He hated that he knew her, but he did. He’d spent days by her side, listening to her endless monologues and vague plans. Something in his mind clicked. She didn’t care about war. No, in this situation, where John and the High Priest had the upper hand, she  _ wanted _ war. She didn’t care about how many lives it would cost, because she knew that whatever the result, her own position and operation would be strengthened. The people would shower her with support and resources, would rally by her side to fight the enemy she created without their knowledge, and at the end, no one would want any magical creature, vampire, witch, fae or anything else to stay in their city. 

He had to find a way to stop her. There had to be something.

“—keep your wealth, if you want, but I can’t let you stay here,” the Elder said, snapping him out of his thoughts; Mick blinked back into the present. “I won’t allow any contact with humans.”

“You want us to give up everything we’ve worked for our whole lives? Our houses, our jobs?” John asked, mouth curling in disgust.

“It’s my final offer, take it or leave it,” the Elder said.

Something wavered behind the High Priest’s eyes, and she tilted her head back in satisfaction. She thought she’d won. Mick wouldn’t let her. 

“That’s unfair,” he said, before he could stop himself.

Several pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. The Elder had frozen, her shoulders stiff and unmoving. When she turned to him, her tone was icy, a thinly laced threat peeking through a single word: “What?”

Mick stood straighter, pushing his chest out stubbornly. “You can’t make the decision for everyone.”

“I’m here to protect them,” she told him, shooting daggers through her eyes at him. “You should be doing the same, Mr. Davies.”

“And that’s the only reason you can demand they leave the premises of the city,” Mick said, choosing his words carefully. He had to give up something to gain something else. Wasn’t that how negotiating worked? “But everything else is not your decision to make. Maybe some people will still want to do business with Mr. Winchester—a lot of the seamstresses in town only order from him, and I don’t see that changing. There are people that have friends that are vampires—” he purposefully didn’t glance in Sam’s direction, “—and there are students who deserve to graduate. And you can’t take that from them. Everyone else can make the choice not to talk or work with vampires, but you can’t make that choice for them.”

Professor Hess’ lips pressed into a thin line, something dangerous flashing behind her eyes. “I don’t think we need your opinion, Mr. Davies.”

“But I think we do,” the High Priest said, exchanging an unreadable look with Mr. Winchester. “We’re willing to discuss this with guild masters and city officials. We’d prefer to set a date for a meeting as soon as possible. My people and I don’t want to stay here longer than what is absolutely necessary.”

At that, Professor Hess went a little pale. Her power ended outside the doors of the Men of Letters base. Even at the university, she was just one of many professors whose votes had equal leverage. The moment the vampires and the witches included anyone else aside from her in the negotiations, she’d lost, and she knew it. 

The flutter of relief inside Mick’s chest at this small victory, however, was short lived. With the way the Elder was staring at him, he realized he’d saved the vampires only to doom himself.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Dean asked. He leaned against a tree trunk, all long, lean lines despite the robe he was covered in. He’d lowered his hood the moment he’d stepped into the shade. Shadows and light spots danced across his face along with the leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. Of all the advantages of their bond, Castiel liked this one the best; small exposure to the sunlight no longer harmed him. 

“I imagine they’re exchanging compliments while sharpening their knives under the table,” Castiel said. He narrowed his eyes at the grand house across the plaza. His brother, Dorothy, Sam and John had disappeared behind its doors close to two hours ago. A small part of Michael’s guard had remained outside to be with Castiel, but so far they were giving him and Dean space. Especially one dark-haired guard, who was sitting as far away from Castiel as possible. He tried really hard not to stare in their direction, but every so often, Castiel would catch his eye, and then the guard would look away.

Dean chuckled. “Obviously you don’t know my dad,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a trace of subtlety in his body.”

“Oh, so that’s where you get it from.” He saw from the corner of his eye Dean sticking his tongue out at him, and he bit back his smile. Teasing him was so easy. 

The guard glanced in his direction again. Castiel sighed. He pushed himself up and walked over. He might as well put him out of his misery.

“I’m glad to see you got your job back,” he said, giving a tight smile to the other guards watching him approach Inias.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been removed from the Royal Guard in the first place,” Inias said, glaring at his shoes. He didn’t stand like a guard ought to do when a member of the High Priest’s family approached them, but he kept his back straight, his hands pressed to his knees uncomfortably.

Castiel licked his lips. It shouldn’t be this hard. Inias had every right to be mad, and every right not to have accepted Castiel’s apology. “I… I heard about you and Kevin,” he said. “It’s about time.”

A choked laugh escaped Inias. He even seemed surprised for a moment, from the way his body tensed, but then his shoulders dropped, and his expression softened. “Yeah. Who would have guessed that all it took was me almost dying?”

Castiel nodded. His fingers were tingling, his chest tightening the more he stood there. It’d never been like this before. He and Inias had known each other since they were in diapers; he was Castiel’s first friend. It tore him up inside that they hadn’t made up.

“Inias,” he said. He didn’t know how to continue, but Inias was looking expectantly at him now, and Castiel had been the one to come all the way here to talk, so… He took a calming breath. “Listen, I really am sorry. For everything. Back then, I couldn’t think about anything except helping Dean, and I never stopped to consider what involving you would mean. So, I’m sorry.”

Brows pulling up, Inias stared at him. “Hannah said you might try apologizing again.”

“I figured you two would discuss this.” Castiel pushed his hands in his pockets. “I promised to talk to her, but then I left, and… I have to do better. I have to be a better friend to both her and you. And Kevin, obviously.”

Inias looked away, shaking his head. His lips trembled, and he bit the bottom one. “I don’t like fighting. And when you… when you ran away and we thought you were heading straight into a fight between John Winchester and Samuel Campbell, man…” he blew a breath out. “I’ve never seen the High Priest lose his composure like that. We were worried we wouldn’t get to you in time, that you’d have jumped right into the battle to help him, and this time you wouldn’t make it. It’s just, it put some things into perspective, you know?”

Castiel didn’t. He remained silent. 

“God, I’m not making much sense am I? What I’m trying to say is, you’re my friend, Castiel. What you did hurt a lot, but not enough for me to wish you harm. So yeah, I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you, but I think I’m ready to let you try and make this up to me.”

Castiel’s heart swelled to double its size. He could barely breathe. “A chance is all I’m asking for,” he said, speaking around the lump in his throat. 

A hesitant smile bloomed across Inias’ face. “Okay. I’m glad we got that settled.”

“Me, too,” Castiel said. “And I’ll talk with Kevin and Hannah as soon as we get back.”

“You do that,” Inias said, his spine curling as he dropped his professional demeanor. He no longer sat with his back straight, but he sagged forward, like the many times they’d sat together watching people coming and going, talking about anything and everything. It wasn’t as easy as back then, but it was a start.

“Mr. Davies.” The Elder’s tone as she called him forward sent a chill down Mick’s spine. She was standing by the windows, watching the vampires and witches get into their carriages, ready to leave with a deal far better than what she’d been willing to accept. 

“Professor,” Mick said, stepping closer. He clutched his hands behind his back, hoping that their shaking didn’t reach his shoulders. 

“I do hope you realize that I have to punish you,” she said. “Your meddling with my plans could end up being this town’s destruction.”

Mick highly doubted that, but he was in no position to voice that thought. He’d pissed her off enough already.

“It’s a shame. You had real potential,” Professor Hess said, shaking her head as if she was sad. As if she was actually capable of such feelings. “You would’ve become a great Man of Letters by my side. You could have become so much better than our hunters, with  _ real  _ knowledge, influence.”

Mick remained silent, head bowed.

The Elder turned to him, her face an unreadable mask. “You’d have been powerful. And you gave all that up for what? To support vampires?  _ Monsters? _ You’re as much a danger to this city as they are.”

“You can’t kick me out of the city, too,” Mick dared to say, his hands curling into fists behind his back. “I only did what was right. You can’t punish me for that.”

“Oh, but I can,” she said. “You’re no longer a member of the Men of Letters. Your father’s pension from his time as an active member is cancelled as of this moment, and no child of yours will even be able to join our ranks. There’ll be no position waiting for you once you graduate,  _ if  _ you manage to graduate. I can’t expel you, but I can make you drop out, and trust me when I say that I’ll do my damnedest to make your life at the university a living hell.”

Ribs tightening around his lungs until he could hardly breathe, Mick dropped his eyes to the floor. She was going to destroy him. She had already ruined his family by taking away the only income his parents had. The worst part was there was nothing he could do to stop her. 

“You’re dismissed,” she said, finally.

On wobbly legs, Mick hurried out of the chapter house. The plaza was empty by then, all the witches and vampires gone in the time it took for Professor Hess to take her anger out on Mick—not that he hadn’t expected this outcome. He knew he was putting himself right in the line of fire when he stepped up to support Sam and his family. He just hadn’t realized repercussions would affect his family as well.

He collapsed against the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on his heels, taking deep breaths. Shit, he’d really fucked up. But it was done now, there was nothing he could do to change the outcome. And he didn’t really want to change it, he realized, staring out at the empty plaza.

He was free.

He’d have to get a job to support himself and his family now, and he’d probably have to study harder to make sure the Elder wouldn’t be able to stop his studies, but he was free. No more Men of Letters meetings dragging on into the late night, no more following orders he didn’t agree with, no more shadowing Professor Hess, no more standing by and watching her do as she pleased.

Yes, in some ways, he concluded, maybe this wasn’t as bad a punishment as he’d expected. 

Dean didn’t know what Cas was saying to his friend, but he could feel the palpable relief radiating from him. It seemed they’d made some progress then. 

The door of the Men of Letters chapter house opened on creaky hinges, and Dean snapped his head around. Michael and Dorothy came out first, followed by the two hooded figures of his father and brother. Unable to wait any longer, Dean threw his own hood back on and rushed to meet them on the front steps. 

“How’d it go?” he asked, trying to catch a glimpse of either his father’s or Sam’s face under their hoods to no avail. 

“Not that good,” John growled. He didn’t pause, just led Sam and Dean back to the carriage waiting to take them home. 

Dean glanced at Cas, who was looking between Dean and Michael, probably wondering which one to go to. Dean raised a hand to wave at him, then pointed towards their carriage. Cas shook his head, not even bothering to catch up to them. He was going to ride with his brother, then. At least that gave Dean some time to figure out how bad things really were.

“Not so bad,” Sam said once inside the safety of the carriage. He dropped his hood and winced. “Not great either.”

“Will someone tell me what happened in there?” Dean asked.

“We have one year to move out of the city,” John said, his brow furrowed. “We can keep our money and our merchandise, we can even sell our houses and stores, but we can’t stay here.”

“Okay, so how’s that not bad?” Dean asked, turning to his brother.

“Mick suggested—and he was right—that every human will have the right to decide what relations they want to have with us, if any.”

Dean blinked. “And that means…”

“It means that our customers can still choose to buy from us, my professors will have to decide whether or not I can go back to the university, and everyone else… if they want to talk to us, they’re free to, as long as we don’t step within the city walls without a written permit.”

“But… but we’ll keep our job?” Dean asked.

“So far it seems like it,” John said, exhaling roughly. “We’ll have to hire more humans to manage our stores, and Ellen will have to supervise everything from afar, but at least we’ll be open.”

“We already had humans working for us,” Dean said. Like Sam had said, not so bad, but not great either. “We’ll just have to rely on them more. Where are we going to live then, if not here?”

“Michael offered to let us stay at the outskirts of their borders, which is good if we’re going to have stronger relations with them, but it’s too far away from where our stores currently are,” Sam said. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Hess won’t accept anything closer than a day ride. So we have to find something in between.”

“And it needs to be flat enough for us to build, to be close to at least one big road, and ideally have a water source,” John said. Exhaustion weighted heavy on his shoulders. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than usual; Dean wondered how long it’d been since his father had slept properly. Chances were it was before they rode up to meet the witches for the first time. Maybe even before the rogue vampires started attacking humans. It’d been a long time.

“We’ll find something. We can send scouts out, and Bobby has tons of maps. Ellen’s men travel around the country to find the best fabrics, so maybe they have some ideas. We’ll figure something out.”

Sam’s optimism never failed to amaze Dean. In this case, he had to admit that they didn’t have any other choice. Optimism was all they had. 

“Right,” Dean said. “We’ll figure something out.”

The ride back home was mostly silent. Dean and John were both lost to their thoughts, which Sam guessed weren’t too far away from his own: How long would this still be a home for them? Professor Hess had given them a year. He had no illusions that she’d make that year easy for them. The sooner they found a new place to relocate to, the better.

Then, of course, there was also the matter of his studies. There was no way Professor Hess wasn’t going to try and convince the university council to kick him out. He could only hope that his other professors liked him well enough to stand up for him. He could imagine two of them wouldn’t care about him being a vampire, but the rest… he might as well toss a coin.

The carriage creaked and groaned to a stop inside their stables, and Sam jumped out. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Dean called after him.

“There’s something I have to do,” Sam said. “See you at dinner?”

“Sure. I’ll just wait here for Cas.”

The house was once again eerily silent. He was glad that the vampires had finally stopped gathering here to wait for news. He needed the space to think, and John needed the calm to get some rest.

Most of their human servants had also disappeared after Samuel’s attack. Eileen had told him they were all safe when he checked in with her, but there was so much to do back then he didn’t have the time to stay and talk for long. Gazing around the house now, he realized that most of them decided not to come back when they realized what the Winchesters were. 

A few did. There were maids cleaning the house, there was a cook preparing their meals, and a stable boy helping their gardener. They were the ones that didn’t care. A small sample of the rest of the people Sam hoped would let them keep some kind of communication with the city once they’d moved. 

And then there was Eileen. 

Eileen, who had been the first to come back, the first to throw herself straight into work cleaning up the mess and the blood, without a question, without a complaint, with only a determined expression on her face. Eileen, who had taken it upon her herself to organize the handful of servants remaining so the household would run smoothly.

She had her back to him when Sam found her. She was in the kitchen, bent over a list of groceries the cook had left for her. 

Sam moved in a circle around her, giving her the chance to catch sight of him in her peripheral vision instead of going straight up to her and startling her.

Her face glowed as she dropped the pen on the table and angled her body towards him. “Looking for something to eat?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head. “I meant actual food,” she said, crossing her arms.

“No, thank you.” He rolled his weight on the tip of his toes, stalling for time. “I wanted to talk, actually.”

She stared at him, waiting.

“We’re leaving. All of us.”

“Leaving?” she asked, taking a hesitant step towards him. “When?”

“I don’t know. It has to be less than a year. Probably as soon as we figure out where we’re going next.”

Eileen nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Is this about the Men of Letters?”

“Yes,” Sam confirmed. “I just… I wanted you to hear it from me first. And of course, we’re happy to give you letters of recommendation, though I’m not sure a lot of people will be happy to see them.” 

“I…” she trailed off, searching his face. “Letters of recommendation? Really? That’s what you want to talk about right after you tell me you’re leaving?”

Sam exhaled, a shaky breath that was almost as loud as his frantic heartbeat. “No. Not really. But it’s weird. You’ve known I’m a vampire this whole time, and you never said a thing.”

“I was keeping your secret.”

“But why?”

“Because I know you, Sam.” Eileen stepped even closer. Closer than Sam had dared approached her since they parted ways, her running to send the servants away and him to warn his father. She gazed up at him from under her lashes, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Vampire or not, you’re a good man. You are kind and considerate. You’ve always been nice to us, and talking to you was one of the few reasons I looked forward to a hard day of work around here. So. A little thing like being allergic to the sun wasn’t going to change my mind.”

Sam swallowed. “I don’t know what to say. It feels like I’m wasting what little time we have.”

“I may have a solution to both of those things,” she said. She gently took his hand in hers and threaded their fingers together; Sam’s breath got caught in his throat. “How about you say you’re going to take me out for a drink? And that continuing studying isn’t the only reason to visit after you leave?”

Sam could hear her nervous pulse. For all her confidence, a small hint of doubt flickered behind her eyes. As if Sam could ever say anything other than, “How about tonight? No one will notice if you leave early, and I can pick you up after sundown?”

Using her hold on him, she tugged him closer still. They were standing chest to chest, a single breath of air between them. “I’d like that very much, Sam.”

“Michael told me about the Elder’s terms,” Cas said, wrapping his arms around Dean as soon as they were out of the stables and alone. “I’m sorry.”

Dean buried his face in the crook of Cas’ neck, taking a deep, calming breath. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, his words muffled.

“I’m sorry that they’re taking your home away from you.”

“It’s just a house,” Dean shrugged into Cas’ arms. “Besides, my family is safe, and you are safe, which is more than I could’ve hoped for a couple of weeks ago.”

“Wise words,” Cas teased, taking Dean by the hand and leading him to a covered part of the inner yard, where the rocks were smooth and perfect for sitting. “How long did it take you to come up with them?”

“Just because I’m dashingly handsome, doesn’t mean I’m not smart.”

Cas bit back a smile. “Oh, so you’re dashingly handsome?”

“You disagree?” Dean asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Obviously not. I’d never say anything to hurt your gigantic ego.”

“Oh, so you’re funny?” Dean teased, throwing Cas’ own words back at him and earning a light slap on the shoulder. He laughed, catching Cas’ wrist just as he was coming in for another slap. Dean pulled him in for a quick kiss instead, tasting the fruit Cas had had for a snack while they were waiting outside the chapter house. 

Cas hummed, satisfied. He tilted his head, tracing Dean’s bottom lip with his tongue. If Dean let him, this wouldn’t stay light and teasing for long. 

Dean pulled back. 

Cas pouted, but he didn’t seem to mean it. They had plenty of time to pick this up again one they weren’t in a place where anyone could walk in on them. 

“So, what’s the plan now?” Cas asked, gathering his knees to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around them. “Where are we going?”

Dean could swear his poor heart almost gave out and exploded at the sound of that ‘we.’ 

“We’ll find someplace. We can build a new village, one suited to our lifestyle. The Vladsari Corridor was useful for getting around town, but limited. We’d need more enclosed roads, more trees for shade, canopies everywhere… it could be pretty.”

“It seems like you already have a plan in mind.”

“Yeah.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Bobby and I talked about it a bit last night. We didn’t think we’d actually have to move away then, but just in case, and as it turns out all our plans weren’t useless.”

“So you’ll go with Bobby to search for that new place?” Cas asked, tilting his head to catch Dean’s eye. “Our new home?”

There went Dean’s heart, beating like crazy against his chest.

“Yeah, I guess I will. Sam seems to be more than capable of helping Dad around here, and I’m happy to let him. If you… I mean I’m not saying we have to, but we could, we could also get out of here for a while.”

“And go where?”

“We could travel,” Dean said, feeling more confident with every passing second. “We could go to all those places Grandpa Henry went, you can find exotic magical plants to bring back and I could talk with some of our suppliers, learn more about our business, help Ellen manage it better. It could be fun.”

Something shifted across Cas’ face, his eyes softened, his mouth curled in a fond smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“So you…”

“I already told you, Dean. I’ll go wherever you are, whether that is in a village you haven’t built yet or half-way across the globe. As long as we’re together.”

Dean melted inside. He was so lucky. So damn lucky. He shuddered every time he thought about how close he came to not having this. Not caring about who was watching them anymore, Dean drew Cas back in. They had a lot of time to figure everything out, about where they were going, where they were staying and everything else in between, but this, this thing between them, Dean could spend all day and night exploring it and still not have enough. So he had to do his damn best to make every moment count.


	13. Chapter 13

Two years later

Dean inspected his reflection one last time as he straightened his vest, a hand running over the shiny buttons. He looked good, if he did say so himself. 

“Mr. Winchester?” A quick knock on his door pulled his attention away from the mirror. “The High Priest has arrived at your father’s house. They’ll be expecting you soon.”

“Thank you,” Dean called back, not bothering to open the door. He walked over to the window, drawing the curtains back so a line of faded light hit him. It was warm against his skin, but not itchy, not yet. He and Cas had experimented a lot, and had figured out that there was a certain limit to how much their bond would protect him, but as long as Cas was somewhere in the village, Dean didn’t need to worry.

He let his gaze wander over the vast expanse of the garden outside his window. Setting up the area for growing the Blood Marigolds that Michael had sent them was hard work, but Cas was nothing but dedicated. He and Andrea—who’d decided a fresh start might be exactly what she and Benny needed and followed Cas to the newly-founded vampire village—spent hours knee-deep in dirt and mud. Whether it was raining or snowing, summer or winter, they worked endless hours to watch the delicate plants grow and blossom. Now, they had a thriving garden, and Cas thought they’d have enough Blood Marigolds to feed all of the vampires in the village without asking Michael to send more juice from his own reservoir. 

Speaking of, Dean could just make out two dark heads sticking out among the endless sea of green. Dean leaned against the window, watching as his boyfriend led Hannah through the garden, showing her the results of his hard labor. Cas and Hannah had been exchanging a lot of letters in the past year, more than Anna or Charlie sent—though granted, they visited quite often along with Michael and Dorothy—so Dean guessed they were on good terms again. Her familiar was perched on her shoulder, her black feathers almost indistinguishable against Hannah’s dark hair. 

Across the massive field, the rest of the village stretched out, bathed in the last golden light of the day. John’s house was in the center of it all, the red-tiled roof of the tower standing tall and imposing over the other houses. Michael and Dorothy would probably rest there for a while before dinner. That gave Dean some time before he had to fetch Cas and Hannah to head that way. For now, he could give them some time to catch up. 

As if sensing Dean’s eyes on him, Cas turned around, tilting his head back to stare straight at him. Dean couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he could see the raised hand waving at him. He returned the gesture, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. 

With his other hand, he felt for the velvet-lined box in his pocket. Maybe tonight wasn’t the best time… but soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Let us know what you thought in the comments down bellow. We'd love to hear what your favourite scene was.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the [art masterpost](https://zelirocks.tumblr.com/post/617393213915971584/hello-more-bang-art-lol-this-bang-is-my-baby) and give Pie all your love if you enjoyed this story, and there's also a rebloggable post on [Tumblr](https://perfectpairbang.tumblr.com/post/617394708663189504/forbidden-fruit-author-kitmistry-artist) if you want to share this fic with others. 
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> Thank you for reading!


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